Season of Shadow and Light

by Jenn J. McLeod

  ‘Sounds like a discussion you need to have in person; not over the telephone.’

  ‘Alice, the last thing I need at this point is to go back to my old life and face Robert.’

  ‘That’s not a decision you’ll be making on your own. I don’t care what Robert has done.’ This time. ‘You’ll go home and you’ll talk.’

  ‘You don’t care? Really?’ Angry tears tipped over onto Paige’s cheeks. This was not good. Not good at all. ‘Mr It-Was-That-One-Time-On-Christmas-Eve seems a little confused about that one time. His latest apology just now had him all mixed up about whether it was New Year’s Eve or Christmas Eve.’

  ‘You said it was a dress-up party for Christmas Eve. He’s upset and confused.’

  ‘If cheating on his wife that one time is so significant, and he’s so sorry, then I’m pretty certain he would know which bloody day it was. Don’t you remember? The reason I didn’t go on New Year’s was the fancy dress theme and I felt on show enough with my crooked face and my stupid limp. So was it Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve? Probably both. God knows how many times he slept with her.’

  ‘You don’t have a crooked face,’ was all Alice could say.

  ‘Are you not hearing me? It doesn’t matter if Robert cheated on me once, twice—whatever. He cheated on an anniversary. I hate him, and I wouldn’t care if I never saw him again.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, Paige.’

  ‘I do. I really do.’

  In her head Alice counted to five, her slow breaths in and out doing little to slow her racing heart. ‘When you have children your life is no longer your own. Every decision is one about Matilda’s future. She’s the innocent party here. You and Robert are the grownups.’

  ‘Could’ve fooled me.’

  ‘You’d do well not to antagonise him, Paige. A father fighting for his children can have devastating consequences for everyone. You don’t want that. Believe me, you don’t,’ Alice added. ‘Together you’ll decide the best thing for your daughter and the best thing is to work things out between you. It’s about the children first. It should always be about the children. The last thing you want is to see your little girl suffer the trauma of a nasty break-up and be so traumatised that she has constant nightmares.’

  Paige’s head snapped up and she fixed Alice with a stare. ‘Mati doesn’t have constant nightmares. Last night was nothing. Monsters, you said.’

  Alice had to steel herself against more outbreaks for fear she would go too far, say too much. Paige had her tipping point and Alice was aware that this situation needed diffusing now. But how? ‘Don’t argue with me, Paige. When I get back I want you packed. We’re leaving tomorrow.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out. This time I’m the one needing space. You need to spend some time with your daughter and think about the consequences of your actions.’

  Alice left a wide-mouthed, speechless Paige behind. She didn’t know where she was going to go, but she couldn’t stay in that house. Alice no longer trusted herself to keep the lie. She’d need all her strength and wits not to tell Paige the truth once and for all.

  33

  With every intention of stopping at the pub for a cool drink and some time alone to think, as Alice pulled up on the far side of the street and saw a crowd of road workers she decided to keep driving. The road out of town was long and straight. With the car an automatic, little actual driving was required and even less concentration, letting Alice’s mind wander.

  She was so involved in a fiery conversation with Nancy about what to do to appease Paige’s questioning that she didn’t notice the vehicle parked on the side of the road until she was almost upon it, the boot and the driver’s side door open. Alice slowed, then stopped a short distance away, slipping the car’s gear lever into PARK before offering help, because offering help was a very country thing to do. When she didn’t see anyone, she decided the safety of a locked car with the engine running was best, because that was a very city thing to do. Then a movement near the bushes caught her attention. How she’d missed the bright pink mop of hair squatting in a shady patch of ground, she didn’t know. How she hadn’t immediately recognised the bright orange car in the shadows also floored her. If she had, would her decision to stop and render assistance have been any different?

  So far she’d managed to avoid Aurora. In defiance of her curiosity urging her otherwise, Alice was determined to remain a distant surveyor of the silent comings and goings from the cottage. Sharni’s chatter at meal time would provide details and answer, to some degree, Alice’s unasked questions. Now, having swaggered over to the Audi, Aurora stood outside Alice’s car, head dipped to window height, sunglasses raised to her forehead, Nancy’s electric blue eyes shocking the life out of Alice.

  ‘Flat tyre,’ the girl said plainly over the whir of the descending electric window.

  ‘So I see,’ Alice managed, despite the pounding under the hand she now had flattened against her chest. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Late for my fucking appointment in Saddleton, which I’m kinda thinking is fate trying to tell me something anyway. Apart from that . . .’

  ‘Do you need to call someone? I have a phone.’ She grabbed the mobile from the centre console and when she looked back Aurora delivered Alice the Paige triple treat of attitude: the shrug, the sigh, the eyebrow lift. In the palm of the girl’s hand sat one of those smart phone gadgets in a yellow-coloured case. Paige loved yellow, too.

  ‘There’s one tow truck in this bloody place and he’s two towns away. I’d change the tyre myself, only I can’t budge the nuts. So I’m waiting. Nothing new in that, though. Thanks anyway.’

  Without another word Aurora pushed off the side of the car and wandered back to her boulder under the shade trees, leaving Alice lost for what to do next. Even if the girl had been a stranger, abandoning her out here didn’t feel right.

  What are you saying? She is a stranger.

  Alice’s fidgeted with the key in the ignition.

  She is, isn’t she?

  Her fingers tightened around the gear lever. A quick gear change and some acceleration was all she needed for this to be over.

  So, Nancy, here we are. Seems to me you have a choice to make. Do I wait with her? Maybe offer her a lift and get to know your daughter a little? Or do I drive away with the secret you were so determined I keep? You were so unwavering when it came to shutting out that part of your life, but you couldn’t fool me, Nancy. I knew, deep inside, you had a wish. You silently hoped your girls would one day have the chance to know each other. That day is here, Nancy. I can make that wish come true, but it will mean breaking my promise to you.

  Help me, Nancy.

  Tell me what you want.

  Tell me, please.

  Alice then muttered aloud, a rare profanity escaping her lips. ‘You’re a foolish old woman, waiting for a sign. You don’t need one, Alice. Of course you won’t drive away.’ She huffed, switched off the ignition, grabbed the roll of peppermints from the glove box and slipped out of the car.

  Was it her imagination or was it hotter out here than in town? She trod cautiously, aware of the tyre ruts gouged in the soft shoulder by cars during the recent downpours, now setting hard as concrete.

  She extended her hand to Aurora, palm up, and saw it was trembling. ‘Mint?’

  A shake of the head was the only response, so she waited. Neither woman spoke and while Alice considered it might be wise to leave the girl to wait alone after all, she couldn’t walk away.

  ‘I can sit with you if you want company. I wasn’t going anywhere in particular.’

  Alice waited.

  Still nothing.

  ‘If you’d prefer to be alone, that’s okay, too. I know which I’d prefer. Up to you, though,’ she said.

  Had Alice needed justification to return to the safety of her car and her ignorance, this lack of response was it. She was about to leave when, without a word, the woman slid across the boulder, the move meant to
make room for Alice to sit—so she assumed.

  Escape foiled.

  Holding back the groan as ageing bones bent into a seated position on the rock face, Alice sat beside Aurora in silence, although she sensed they had the same small piece of nearby ground as their focus, despite a view kilometres wide and just as long stretching out before them in every direction.

  ‘We haven’t met officially. I’m Alice. Thank you for letting us stay in your lovely home.’

  The girl shrugged. ‘You can buy the place if you love it so much. It’ll be on the market soon enough, I reckon.’

  ‘Oh?’ Alice said. ‘Selling the family home is never easy.’

  ‘Easier when you need the money. Besides, the place is hardly what I’d call a home.’

  ‘Would talking to me help?’

  ‘How?’ Eye contact—finally. ‘I don’t know you. Why would you even be interested in anything I have to say?’

  Alice gave her own shrug, aware that mirroring a person’s body language built rapport. ‘Just looking to fill in time with you,’ she offered. ‘Seems silly to be sharing a rock with someone and not talk. I thought young people these days craved chatter. Isn’t that why you spend hours on Twittering and Facenook.’

  ‘Twitter and Facebook. And no, I don’t spend hours. Both concepts require friends.’

  ‘I’m sure you have plenty of friends—and family?’ Alice dared.

  ‘Dead. My father killed himself.’

  Alice managed to disguise the sharp intake of air with a little cough. ‘I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible shock.’

  ‘Not really.’ Another shrug. ‘Not too melodramatic at all. I didn’t find him swinging from a rafter in the barn, or anything gruesome. Happened too fucking slow to have any shock value at all. Thanks to booze he was killing himself his whole life. Didn’t have the balls to do it any other way, I guess.’

  ‘Lots of people drink. It doesn’t mean—’ Alice baulked, the health professional’s lecture coming out of retirement, along with the care-giver’s comforting touch of a reassuring hand gently placed on the girl’s forearm—the soft fleshy underpart near the bend in her elbow.

  Even through the shirtsleeve there was no mistaking the thrill—the distinct ‘buzzing’ sensation Alice felt under her fingers—of blood flowing rapidly through a fistula. Had Alice placed a stethoscope on that spot where her hand rested she’d hear the bruit—the sound of blood whooshing through the tubes that redirect blood from the veins and arteries in the forearm to a dialysis machine. Without medical training, anyone else might have jerked their hand away in fear or confusion. Not a nurse. The quick clinical observations supported Alice’s immediate suspicion: the fluid retention in the ankles and feet, the puffy face and eyes, observable breathlessness—all of which could have been this heat, except for that single tell-tale fistula.

  Alice might not have pulled her hand away in fright, but Aurora did, and after a brief but wary glance she concentrated on her thumb and index finger fumbling to do up the small black button on the cuff of the long-sleeved shirt.

  Alice refocused her thoughts, picking up the line of conversation. ‘It doesn’t mean the drink killed him.’ The nurse had seen how some people abused their bodies and how much the kidneys and liver could take.

  ‘The bloke didn’t have the heart to top himself outright. In fact, my father didn’t have a heart at all.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘True enough. My mother broke it years before.’

  ‘Your . . . mother . . .’ The words escaped Alice’s mouth; there was no stopping them, or the image of Nancy.

  ‘Yeah, you going to ask me about my mother next?’ The girl turned to face Alice, this time slipping the sunglasses down her nose to peer over the top.

  As much as she wanted to, what would asking about Nancy achieve? Aurora’s obvious contempt would only stain Alice’s memories. Besides, she didn’t have to ask. Alice knew all she needed to know. She knew too much and it complicated absolutely everything.

  ‘Can’t tell you much about my mother. She walked away when I was a baby. She’s dead, too.’

  Alice’s interest sparked. What could Aurora possibly know about Nancy’s death?

  ‘Not dead as in dead, although she could be for all I know, or care. She was dead to Dad and he made sure everyone in town thought so.’

  ‘She’s your mother.’

  ‘Mother?’ A strange choking sound erupted from Rory’s mouth. ‘What sort of mother chooses one child over another? When mine left she took my sister. She could’ve picked me. She didn’t.’

  ‘Picked you?’

  ‘My Dad told me how he’d fought with her, refusing to let us go when she walked out on him for another bloke. He told her that if she left she’d have to choose one of us. She didn’t choose me.’ Rory’s voice lowered a little, the anger evident, but less. ‘I remember the night he told me. It was my birthday. I’d been banging on about missing my sister. He was drunk and, well, he basically spilled his guts. Drunks do that if you get them at the right time—just before they pass out. Sometimes I wish the bastard had passed out and never told me. I’ve hated birthdays ever since.’ Rory faked a smile. ‘But those damn birthdays keep coming—for now, anyway,’ she muttered the last few words. ‘And here I am sitting on a fucking rock in the middle of fucking nowhere with a flat tyre and un-budgeable wheel nuts.’

  Alice wanted to tell Aurora the truth, how there was no choice for Nancy that night. She’d wanted both children, loved both children equally, even though circumstances had forced her to leave one baby behind. But the girl was too angry and Alice too afraid. To speak the truth would be breaking the promise she’d made to Nancy and this was neither the time, nor the place. Aurora clearly had other issues to deal with.

  One thing was certain; Alice couldn’t leave this town now, nor would she leave Aurora alone on the side of the road. There was only one thing to do.

  ‘Speaking of nuts,’ Alice quipped, wiggling her bottom to make herself as comfortable as one could be while sitting on a rock in summer heat. ‘A guy goes into the bar, sits down and orders a drink. Other than the bartender there’s no one else in the place. All of a sudden the guy hears a voice say, “Nice suit”. He looks around and doesn’t see anyone and the bartender looks busy washing some glasses. A little while later the same voice says, “Nice tie”. The guy looks around again and doesn’t see anyone. He finally asks the bartender if he said something. “No,” replied the bartender, “it wasn’t me. Probably the peanuts. They’re complimentary.”’

  Aurora huffed, shades of a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. ‘My dad used to tell that same joke. That’s when he was in a joking mood. Lucky for me his moods were pretty predictable—sad in the mornings, but usually after his first drink at about . . . oh somewhere around breakfast, he’d liven up. The jokes always got funnier by the time night came around, especially when he did his funny walk and fell over. He was quite a character, my dad.’ Cynicism stained her words. ‘At least he was a good drunk and told good jokes. Want to hear another one?’

  ‘How many you got?’ Alice challenged.

  ‘Why is Frankenstein a dickhead? Because his nuts are in his neck.’

  ‘Not bad,’ Alice said. ‘How about . . . What kind of nut can get a cold?’

  Shrug.

  ‘A cashew!’ Alice faked a sneeze. ‘Get it? A cash-oo!’

  ‘Oh, that’s really bad,’ Aurora groaned. ‘Do you know why a squirrel swims on its back?’

  Alice shrugged this time.

  ‘To keep his nuts dry.’

  ‘Oh, yes, very ladylike indeed.’ Alice stopped as a tear rolled out from under Aurora’s black-rimmed sunglasses, tracing the line of her nose before disappearing at the corner of her mouth. The sunglasses danced up and down as the girl rubbed her eyes and Alice felt her own tears starting to well as she saw Nancy in those same sad, energy-zapped eyes. They took her breath away.

  ‘Here.’
Alice dragged a scrunched tissue from her pocket and tucked it into Aurora’s hand.

  ‘I’m stocked up on tissues. Thanks anyway.’ Aurora half-lifted her butt, retrieving a wad of folded tissues from her back pocket.

  ‘I can see you’re going through a tough time.’

  ‘You mean this?’ She lifted the arm with the fistula. ‘Not as tough as some. I see the same people when I go for dialysis—three times a week, five hours every time. They’ve been doing the same thing for so many years. One lady, doddery Doris, told me she wanted a Pacific Island cruise with her husband before she dies. Like that’s going to happen when she’s plugged into dialysis every third day of her life. Instead, she got all excited about her husband buying a second-hand caravan so they could get away for a couple of days. She told me, “One doesn’t need the seven seas when one has seven great states and territories to explore right here in Australia.”’

  ‘She has a point.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Van was due to be delivered two weeks ago.’

  ‘How lovely.’

  ‘She died the week before,’ Aurora said flatly.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘That’s when I decided to come home, even though being here means trekking to Saddleton Hospital for dialysis. That was my appointment today, but what the hell . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve missed days before. Hasn’t killed me yet.’

  An index finger poked at the centre of her sunglasses to slide them back up her nose, but Alice stopped her with a gentle hand. ‘I don’t know why you’re acting so tough,’ she said. ‘You’re really not. No one’s tough at a time like this.’

  ‘A time like what? This is my life. Besides, how would you know anything?’ she shot back. ‘You hardly look sick.’

  ‘I know more than you think, believe me,’ Alice said softly. ‘I do know what you’ve been through. I’ve been through it before.’

  She looked at Alice, some of the smart alec leaving her expression, her shoulders sagging a little. ‘Really? You too, huh?’

  ‘No, not me directly. I mean, I was a nurse. But also, the person I loved . . . It started in her kidney, then metastasised to the brain.’