That’s a car starting up! I press my face against the grill but it’s out of sight. Disappointment floods through me. My right forefinger is bleeding again from pulling at the mesh. No don’t think about your fingers. He was just trying to frighten you.
Really.
Truly.
The mattress on the stretcher is almost as thin as a bedside mat. I pull it onto the floor and lie flat on my back, remembering when I went to yoga classes at university. Relax, close your eyes and let your mind wander …deep breaths. Go to a safe time, like when you were a child…
We island kids attended to school on the mainland, catching the ferry early in the morning, returning late afternoon. My red hair, so beloved of old ladies, gave the townies the excuse to taunt me. ‘Carrot, carrot, island parrot!’ was a favourite. My reading glasses were broken so often that mother was offered a discount by the optometrist.
A safe role for me was becoming a storyteller, a court jester to the bully’s monarchs. The staple literary diet of the playground became one of breathlessly gothic tales, girls in peril and dark mysterious heroes blessed with good looks, smart tongues, and libidos of gargantuan proportions. Drunk on unaccustomed popularity, I morphed into a control freak.
So many times I’ve wished I could go back and put my worst crime right.
If I lose a finger and my career, will it be God’s punishment, and no more than I deserve?
CHAPTER 7
The Reckoning
Eloise
Sunday: 8.30am.
My God, he’s forgotten who I am! Hang up, you fool. Then, he spoke quietly. Ice chips bouncing off a window pane couldn’t have sounded colder.
‘Eloise.’
‘Yes.’
The silence seemed to go on forever, and then thank God, he responded. ‘And how are you?’
‘I’m well, thank you’ I replied. The banality of convention confused me. He waited for me to state my business, the sound of his breathing in my ear mingling with the frantic drumbeats of my heart.
‘I need to talk to you, James,’ I said, ‘Please would you—it’s urgent, really urgent.’ The silence stretched. Just as I was about to grovel, he asked, ‘Are you here in Brisbane?’ An almost imperceptible edge to his voice told me he was not unaffected by my call, how, I was not sure.
‘Yes, I’m at my goddaughter’s flat in West End. Please, can I talk to you?’
‘Why? What could be so important after twenty six years that you can’t tell me over the telephone? I think you showed how you felt when you left me.’
I abandoned him? I didn’t understand what he meant, but I only had seconds to convince him of the seriousness of my request.
‘Please, it concerns you. Something you need to know. And it’s private.’ I sank onto the chair beside the telephone table to prevent my legs from giving way, knowing I would crawl barefoot across broken glass if that was what it took to keep him on the line. Again, seconds ticked by before he responded.
‘Tell me where you are. I’ll send a car for you.’
Traumatised, I couldn’t remember the street address, but then my eye fell on Pam’s electricity bill. I reached over, snatched it out of the letter rack on the wall, and read it to him.
‘Be ready in half an hour,’ he said abruptly and hung up.
9.00am.
The passing scenery held no interest for me. I leaned back, closed my eyes and tried to rehearse my coming speech. All too soon, I feared, our reunion would end in rejection and perhaps, hatred. Conscious of his driver’s occasional glances at me in the rear vision mirror, I looked resolutely out of the window, trying to present a calm facade, pressing my knees together to prevent them bouncing with agitation. Just minutes now and for the first time in twenty-six years I would set eyes on the man whom I’d expected to marry, the man who dumped me when he discovered I was pregnant and broke my heart.
My heart rate rose, as the car swept through imposing wrought-iron gates and along a tarmac driveway and came to a halt in front of the house. Stone steps led up to a door grand enough to have been the entrance to a castle, its forbidding facade seeming to reflect its owner’s heart.
The chauffeur turned off the ignition, climbed out, came around the car and opened the door for me. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the car, hitched the strap of my handbag over my shoulder and tweaked my skirt to make sure it wasn’t caught up behind my knees.
The castle door creaked open and James appeared in the entrance, one large square hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding the door half-open, as though he was still deciding whether to invite me in.
‘Eloise.’ He nodded dismissal to the chauffeur, then stood aside and gestured for me to enter, his lemony aftershave wafting into my nostrils as I passed. He scanned me from head to toe with a sweep of his eyes as I stepped inside, limbs quivering, feeling like a hunted animal.
The entrance opened into a foyer where a large landscape hung on one wall and a couple of urns of flowers graced pedestals. He grasped me impersonally by the elbow and steered me through to an octagonal office, the walls lined with bookshelves. Files and papers were stacked on a table and piled up on the floor; two armchairs rested before the fireplace. The room was comfortable without being outright messy. A black and white border collie lying on a rug grinned and flapped its tail at me. I smiled weakly down at it. At least the dog was happy to see me.
James moved behind his desk and watched, making no attempt to put me at ease. Twitters of fearful excitement scampered a mad game through my stomach. I perched on the edge of an upright chair facing him and placed my handbag on the floor beside me the silence was broken only by the ticking of a grandfather clock standing in a corner.
Twenty-six years had left their mark, but he was still beautiful. His warm brown hair was flecked with grey and impeccably groomed, but there was no trace of the carefree lover of my youth in this intimidating man. His dark blue eyes coldly assessed my appearance.
My long-held dreams of being within touching distance of him vanished and now my carefully rehearsed speech disappeared like Scotch Mist. Jumbled thoughts wittered through my mind, moths released from a disused cupboard. Somehow I needed to tell him I’d given birth to his daughter and beg him to use what influence he could to help find Ally. This meant convincing him I hadn’t betrayed him and that the child I carried was his.
‘James—’ my voice came out in a croak. He stood up, moved to a tray near the window on which there were tumblers and a jug of water, poured some and handed it to me. My hand shook and the glass clacked loudly against my teeth as I took a mouthful. He cleared a spot on the desk and thrust a coaster forward as I attempted to put it down again with trembling fingers.
‘Let’s get one thing clear, Eloise. Whatever you’ve come for, don’t beat around the bush. I haven’t the time or inclination for this.’
His mouth settled into a hard line, accentuating the grooves running down his cheeks. He didn’t actually glance at his watch, but managed to give the impression that his time took precedence over my own. ‘Yes, of course,’ I acknowledged, glowing with embarrassment. Whatever you do, don’t cry. Remember, he was the one who bailed out.
‘My daughter is twenty-five years old. I gave birth to her after I came back from England.’
He stared at me. ‘So? I know how long it is since you left me, Eloise,’ he said dryly, not having twigged what I was on about.
‘She’s your daughter too, James,’ I reminded him.
Shocked, he stared at me. ‘What? What do you mean? You had my child?’
‘You know I did. You dumped us, remember?’ I couldn’t believe this.
His eyes narrowed to slits. For a moment, he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
‘But—how do I know it’s mine?’
‘It’s?’ I wanted to punch his handsome face, and bunched my fist before I reminded myself it would be worst thing I could do. ‘How dare you even suggest for a moment she’s not yours? I can arrange a DNA test.�
��
‘You do that!’ he snapped. The dog jumped up and ran to scratch at the door. James emitted a muffled exclamation, moved across to give it a reassuring caress and a gentle word before he let it out. He swung back and started pacing, slapping his hands on the backs of chairs, eyes glittering, apparently unable to find words to express what he was feeling at first.
Then the storm broke. ‘After all this time, twenty-six years of silence, you decide to appear. What makes you think I give a damn? Who did you think you were? First of all, you start an argument with me just before I left on that trip. I told you to back off, but you wouldn’t let it go. I came home three days early because I couldn’t bear to be away from you any longer. I wanted to make up with you and what did I find?’
His voice cracked, as he mimicked someone’s long-ago words. ‘Eloise has returned to Australia. Eloise doesn’t believe your relationship will work. No one knows where she is. How could you have done that to me? No explanation whatsoever. Not a word about being pregnant! My God!’
I couldn’t believe my ears. Rage bubbled out of my mouth in a vitriolic stream. ‘How dare you! What utter rubbish. I waited for days for you to write to me, send me a postcard—anything! Then all I get is a message. You’re the one who sent me away! You didn’t want me and our child! Remember?’ I shouted.
He ranted on, oblivious to my interjection. Fury burst out in a stream of bitterness–and to my astonishment, pain.
He glared into my face. ‘I searched for you, damn it! I found those cousins of yours out at Quilpie, but they hadn’t heard from you for years. You didn’t have a home in Australia, so I had no way of contacting you. None of your former employers knew where you lived and you had no other relatives to ask. I advertised in all the major Australian papers for you, but there was nothing. You didn’t write to me, you just vanished into thin air. You weren’t even on the electoral roll.’ He threw his arms wide in a gesture of frustration.
‘But you knew my old address in Australia!’ I yelled, stunned beyond all belief. ‘If you— tried there anyone would have told you where I was.’
He was so angry he appeared unaware I had interjected. ‘Eventually I gave up and got on with my life. After all, what was the point in loving someone who thought so little of our relationship she dumped me without a word? And now you expect me to believe you had my child? Who were you seeing behind my back, Eloise?’
No. Not this—crap—again. I struggled to remain calm and pitched my voice low, lest I started screaming. There was no way I was going to let myself to be short-shifted again.
‘Damn you, no-one. You know we were living in each other’s pockets. How would I have the opportunity to be with someone else? I–loved–you.’ I clenched my teeth, annunciating clearly so there wouldn’t be any mistake in his mind. ‘Your father told me you said I was to go back to Australia and you would follow me later, that you weren’t sure whether you wanted the baby. Your parents were horrible to me, and from you? Nothing– except, of course, rejection.’ I could hear my words bite with sarcasm.
‘What are you talking about?’ He threw me a look of contempt. ‘You loved me? You took off without a word when my back was turned. That shows just how you really felt about me.’ He charged over to the fireplace, snatched up the tongs and poked viciously at some crumpled paper amongst the ashes. I found a screwed-up tissue in my bag and swiped at the tears of anger and frustration spilling down my cheeks.
‘You know it wasn’t my choice to return to Australia. For crying out loud, James, you told me to go. You father told me you said I had to go,’ I insisted.
‘What do you mean I told you? I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous. My father certainly didn’t tell me anything. I only spoke to him about business before I got back and found you gone,’ he hissed, ashen-faced. He jammed the poker back into its holder.
I jumped to my feet, sending the chair crashing onto its back.
‘Your parents arranged for my ticket to be updated and marched me to the airport. If they could have put me in handcuffs, they would have. I didn’t bloody dream it, you know! They said you would follow me to Australia.’
Old enough to be grandparents, we confronted each other, hands clenched like bare-knuckle fighters. Our anger rendered us shell-shocked. He picked up the chair, thumped it in place and charged back behind his desk where he sat staring silently at me as though I was an alien. His colour was returning, but his expression remained grim. ‘Very well. Let’s hear your version of what happened that day.’
I tried to speak, but my mouth was too dry. He reached over and poured more water into my glass. I sat straight backed, notifying James I wouldn’t tolerate his bullying. Outwardly calm, I recounted the events of that terrible day, describing how his parents behaved and how they packed me back to Australia. I talked about finding work in Townsville before buying a cottage on Masters Island.
‘They grabbed the opportunity to get rid of me. You were away, the phone in the house out of order and I was too ill to cope with anything.’ I related my efforts to contact him, groped for my handbag and fished out the letters which had been returned to me twenty-six years previously.
He took them from me and slowly opened the top one, to read a few lines in shocked silence. Then he shuffled through the others. Not Known At This Address, Return To Sender All marked with the same message in his mother’s handwriting. ‘My God, El. The wasted years … what’s been done to us?’ His face twisted in horror and our shared pain mirrored in each other’s eyes. ‘But why did you let my parents intimidate you and fool you into believing I would do such a thing? I know you were sick, but why did you listen to them? I loved you, Eloise. I would have welcomed our child.’
‘Because I was so damn sick I couldn’t cope with anything, let alone two horrible—’ I pulled myself up, realising that I couldn’t really call those two excrescences “horrible” to their son, who might actually love them.
He blinked. ‘Yes, well you’re a mature woman now.’ He took a deep breath and wiped his hand slowly over his jaw. ‘There was never any mention of a baby. My parents and Jemima swore you were two-timing me swore you left with another man. A John Faulkner.’
Anger licked my insides into a furnace. ‘I’ve never heard of a John Faulkner, then or now.’ I took a sip of much-needed water.
‘You know, it always seemed too good to be true that an ordinary girl like me could attract and keep the love of a man like you. You’ve enjoyed the best of upbringing, English public schools and lots of money–the advantages of class. You had your pick of beautiful, well-educated women, while I was the low-class daughter of an Australian small-crops farmer. Still am. And there’s nothing like the English class system for snobbery, especially all those years ago. All they thought about, and probably still do, is money, property and maintaining the stud book. Woe betide anyone who tries to get inside. Love needn’t enter into the equation.’ I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my tone.
‘Did I ever give you cause to feel that way?’
‘No you didn’t,’ I admitted, ‘but your parents, many of their friends and some of yours did, especially your cousin Jemima. I tried to tell you how they laughed behind my back, but you didn’t want to see what was happening. Jemima was just waiting for the opportunity to get you for herself!’
The corners of his mouth twitched and for a fleeting moment I recognised the man with whom I had fallen in love. A sensation which I’d not felt in all the years I missed him, uncoiled inside me. I’ve touched this man in his most intimate places. And he has touched me.
We made eye contact; something hot arced between us for a split second before giving way to wry humour.
‘No chance. First of all she is my cousin. She always was a sly cow and now she’s an old one. You’ll be gratified to hear she’s been divorced by two husbands and looks like a Shar Pei from sunbathing in Spain.’
I was girlishly pleased to hear it.
‘And what about your husband? Did he accept
—the baby?’
‘I never married. I changed my name to Carpenter by deed poll before my child was born.’
Refusing to allow myself to waver, I described the life I created for the two of us, confessing I spun a web of lies so tight they should have choked me. When I finished talking, he turned and stared out into the garden for a long time, before he finally faced me. I met his gaze straight on. Gesturing for me to sit in one of the armchairs, he went over to a tray on which sat a decanter of whisky and poured two shots.
‘I don’t suppose I can blame you for making up a story for her, it’s understandable,’ he acknowledged, handing me a drink.
‘Are Margaret and Randall still alive?’ I held hopes of them being slowly and thoroughly basted in Hell. I flicked a glance at the wall from where the framed faces of his parents gazed triumphantly down on me.
‘No, mother died five years ago, father seven,’ he replied. ‘The conspiracy must have been organised immediately on a massive scale because, as I said, I came home early. Our employees would do what they were told, but our relatives and friends would all have to be advised of the game plan.’ His expression bleak, he looked out the window onto the darkening landscape. I picked up my drink, sipped and closed my eyes, exhausted by the events and emotions of the last twenty four hours.
‘I remember you said your mother left when you were a baby, your father died and relatives brought you up under sufferance. I’m sure that’s why you didn’t consider yourself worthy of my love and allowed my parents to destroy our future. I should have known something wasn’t right, and tried harder to find you, El.’ His voice seemed to come from a long way away.
God forgive me! For just a short while, I’d forgotten Ally’s plight! I jumped to my feet, slopping my drink over my shirt. ‘Ally’s been missing since Friday night!’
The Naked Room Page 5