She scanned the toys, hoping to see the rabbit, which she knew was his favourite, but she had no luck. A niggle of nervousness started in her stomach.
Stop it. Just do what any other sitter would do. Play a game with him.
What game? Alice picked up a little blue and yellow truck from the top of the pile. ‘Would you like to play with this?’
Charlie looked at her strangely, as if this was the weirdest suggestion he’d ever heard. She took a deep breath. Don’t lose it, girl.
Dropping to her knees, she pushed the little truck over the floor and tried to make engine noises. Charlie watched politely, but without any real interest.
‘Dad,’ he said, looking towards the door.
Desperate now, Alice grabbed a green and white striped cushion from a nearby armchair and dropped it over the truck. ‘Oh, goodness,’ she said, feigning huge surprise. ‘Where’s the truck? What happened to the truck, Charlie? Is it hiding?’
At least she had his attention again. Squatting beside the cushion, with his dimpled hands resting on his round pink knees, the little boy stared at the cushion for a moment, then pushed it aside.
‘Oh!’ Alice exclaimed with mock excitement. ‘There it is. Clever boy. You found your truck.’
Seeing that she’d held his interest, she added, ‘Will we hide it again?’
Charlie nodded and smiled. Alice covered the truck with the striped cushion.
The little boy looked up at her in eager anticipation. ‘Truck?’ he said.
‘Where is it?’ She lifted a corner of the cushion and Charlie gasped with excitement. ‘Is it under here?’ she asked.
He didn’t seem sure, but he was riveted.
Alice pulled the cushion away. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed again. ‘There it is!’
‘Truck!’ Charlie crowed, his face alight with excitement. Then he grinned at Alice. ‘Again.’
It became a game, a wonderful game. Over and over they hid the truck and then found it again, and with each rediscovery Charlie became more excited and squeally. Alice knew it was silly to feel such a huge sense of achievement, but she’d never expected such instant success. Somehow, instinctively, she’d hit on a way to entertain Seth’s son. She could do this. She really could.
She was hiding the truck for the umpteenth time, and Charlie was hauling the cushion off again with an ear-splitting squeal that could have brought his father running, when she realised he was over-excited.
It was time to call a halt, or she would never get him to bed.
‘Okay, I think it’s time to calm down, Charlie boy.’ She reached to draw him to her for a cuddle.
He wriggled to be free of her. ‘More! Truck!’
‘No, it’s time we put the truck away to sleep in the basket.’
Slowly but deliberately, Alice picked the truck up and placed it in the basket. Charlie stared at her, the delight and excitement in his little face fading, replaced by trembling-lipped disappointment.
What now? she wondered. She’d been so pleased with herself. She’d been doing so well at this baby-sitting gig, but perhaps she’d peaked too early.
Her mind raced. ‘Would – would you like a drink?’
To her relief, Charlie gave this some consideration and then nodded, and together they went into the adjoining kitchen. ‘What would you like? Water?’
He pointed to the fridge. ‘Juice.’
Alice wasn’t prepared to argue, so she opened the fridge and found a bottle of apple juice.
‘Ooh!’ Charlie exclaimed, also spying a punnet of blueberries on a lower shelf. ‘Berries!!’
‘You like blueberries?’
This brought a nod and a rapturous grin.
Seth hadn’t mentioned giving Charlie anything more to eat, but she supposed a few blueberries couldn’t hurt, and as she was keen to keep the kid happy and calm, she rinsed a few and found a little plastic bowl for him.
‘Here you are.’
‘Ta,’ Charlie said with endearing politeness as she offered him the bowl, but instead of taking the bowl from her, he gleefully chose a plump blueberry and popped it into his mouth, laughing as he did so.
Gosh, he was a cutie.
A split second later the laughter died as a desperate look of fear suddenly appeared in Charlie’s eyes.
Oh, God.
‘Charlie?’
The little boy was panicking. He flapped his arms madly, and a flaming sword of fear sliced through Alice. Charlie was going red in the face.
Was he choking?
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not to Charlie. Not to me.
As he struggled to breathe, the worst kind of terror gripped Alice. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a crazy conjuring from her overwrought imagination. It was real! And worse than anything she might have dreamed up. Kids can’t choke on blueberries, surely?
‘Charlie,’ she begged.
The poor little kid couldn’t answer. He didn’t seem capable of making even the smallest sound. Alice felt as though her heart had stopped.
She wanted to die, to run away. But she knew she couldn’t. Charlie needed her. Now. This instant.
There was no time to grab her phone and call an ambulance. No use calling Seth at the homestead. Charlie’s face was turning a deeper and deeper shade of scarlet with every passing second. Time was too precious. It was up to her.
Alice had never felt a sense of panic like this. It was hard to think straight, but she knew she shouldn’t put her fingers down Charlie’s throat, as she might push the obstruction further into his windpipe. She’d read that during the past week, when she’d been swatting up on babysitting first aid.
With a sob of terror, she scooped Charlie into her arms, grabbed a chair and sat with him slung over her knees. Then she thumped his back. Weeping, she thumped him again and again.
Charlie, come on, please, please cough it up.
Oh, Seth, oh, God, I’m so sorry.
She should never have volunteered to mind Seth’s son. She should have known better. She was hopeless at this. Charlie – perfect, adorable little Charlie – was going to die.
She knew there was a first-aid action called a Heimlich manoeuvre, but she couldn’t recall the exact details. As she thumped Charlie again, she felt totally inadequate, the very worst kind of –
Then she saw it. A small round blue fruit, perfectly formed, lying on the floor.
Oh, my God.
Alice looked at Charlie in her lap. His bright colour was fading. She sat him up and he gazed up at her in puzzlement, his eyes huge, his lower lip trembling. But he wasn’t struggling to breathe!
The crisis was over?
‘Are you okay, darling?’
He didn’t answer, and Alice thought he might burst into tears and cry for his father, but instead he cuddled in to her and took several sobbing breaths.
‘Oh, Charlie,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, darling.’ Cradling him in her arms, she cherished a moment of total and utter relief, and Charlie clung to her, as if he somehow sensed that he’d been in mortal danger, but was safe with her.
Undone by his simple trust, Alice lost it. In a heartbeat she was weeping softly. She didn’t want to scare Charlie, but she couldn’t stop the tears. She was weeping with relief, but she was also weeping for all the years of tension and guilt, for the emotions she’d kept bottled deep inside for far too long.
35
The Drummonds were stony-faced as they gathered in the lounge room. Jackie had a supply of tissues tucked behind a sofa cushion. She hoped she wouldn’t cry in front of her family, but if things turned nasty, she knew there was every chance that she would give way to tears.
Knowing Hugh’s need to do the right thing, which would be even stronger after this afternoon’s drama, she realised he was quite capable of handing Ruthven Downs over to his sister.
Now, the moment she’d dreaded for weeks had arrived. A final decision was about to be made.
From he
r position on the sofa, Jackie looked around her at the elegant rooms. She’d vacuumed this oriental carpet so frequently she knew its pattern by heart. She looked at the stately, old-fashioned furniture, thinking of the countless times she’d polished the arms, the carved backs and the solid round feet of these Rosenstengel lounge chairs that had been Stella’s pride and joy.
Five years ago, Jackie had had these chairs reupholstered. Such care she’d taken over choosing the fabric.
Over the decades of her marriage she’d grown to love this house and each piece of furniture was like an old friend. She’d put down deep roots into this place. Her sense of self and her sense of security were closely tied to this house and its lands.
Now, facing its loss, Jackie felt once again vulnerable and uncertain, like the under-confident child she’d been all those years ago, when her father had died so unexpectedly, leaving her and her mother penniless.
It was a disturbing realisation. At this age, she was sure she should have developed more inner strength, more resilience – more gumption, her mother-in-law Stella would have called it.
It didn’t help that Jackie had no real idea what Hugh was planning to do at this meeting. For the past hour, she’d been fielding phone calls from her friends about last-minute party preparations. In the brief few minutes they’d had to talk, Hugh had thrown up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
‘I’m afraid we’ll just have to play it by ear,’ he’d said.
Now, here they were here with a decision to be made. A huge decision.
Flora, at the other end of the sofa, was paying more attention to her phone than Jackie would have liked, but she’d been stressed enough when Jackie filled her in about the family’s situation and she didn’t want to stir the girl, so she held her tongue now. Hugh, sitting opposite, looked resigned and grim, and when he gave up his favourite armchair by the window for Deborah, Jackie almost protested. The gesture was far too symbolic for her liking.
Xavier, in a holey T-shirt and a pair of limp, striped, flared trousers that looked like pyjama bottoms, chose to sit cross-legged on the floor with his back against the bookcase. At least he seemed calmer now.
In the far corner were neatly stacked white Styrofoam boxes holding glassware, crockery and cutlery for tomorrow’s party. Another thing to worry about. It would be a disaster if, after this evening, the family hadn’t the heart for a celebration.
The last to arrive was Seth.
‘Evening, all,’ he said, bringing a warm smile to the sombre gathering. ‘Sorry I haven’t been more engaged with you guys today.’
‘At least you could join us now, Seth,’ said Jackie. ‘Is Charlie happy with his babysitter?’ She added this question loudly, wanting to make it quite clear that Seth had gone the extra mile to make himself available.
Seth nodded. ‘Charlie’s fine, thanks. So, what have I missed?’
A bitter laugh escaped Deborah. ‘You haven’t missed a thing.’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Only the complete slaughtering of my artistic ego.’
Jackie sighed and fancied that Hugh might have sighed too, but he didn’t flinch from quickly explaining to Seth, succinctly and calmly, about the paintings in the shed and Deborah’s subsequent change of heart about her inheritance rights.
Seth frowned as he listened, and Jackie was interested to see that everyone in the room was waiting for his response.
Seth addressed his aunt. ‘So we’re not talking about your legal rights to this place. The issue is more about your moral rights?’
‘Exactly.’ Deborah lifted her chin. ‘I was desperately disappointed when I discovered my work ferreted away in a dirty old shed, when I’d foolishly believed it was being enjoyed by art lovers in their homes.’
Seth nodded sympathetically. ‘But the paintings you found here – I imagine they’re only a small sample of your work.’
‘Well, yes,’ Deborah admitted reluctantly. ‘But that’s not really the point. I –’
‘Deb has a right to feel aggrieved,’ Hugh cut in. ‘I should have been more open right from the start. I was trying to offer her a helping hand, but it was a ham-fisted way to go about it.’
The poor man looked so rueful Jackie wanted to launch across the room to hug him.
‘So now you’d like to make amends?’ Seth asked his father. ‘You want to divvy up this property more fairly?’
Jackie tensed. This was the big question. Everyone had been watching Seth, but now they turned to Hugh for his answer.
Hugh nodded. ‘You all know now about my father’s letter. In my opinion, it makes the inheritance question more important than ever.’
‘I certainly agree,’ Deborah said hotly. ‘Given what’s happened,’ she added, directing another glare to her brother.
Seth frowned. ‘That’s all very well for you, Aunt Deb, but I must say I’m surprised you feel that way. You were always so keen to remain independent. You kept your distance too. It’s not as if you’ve been cracking your neck to spend time here.’
Oh, well said, Seth. Jackie almost applauded.
Deborah looked put out. ‘Well, obviously, things have changed. And – and I –’ She seemed to be floundering now. ‘And I have Xavier to thank.’
It occurred to Jackie that Deborah’s outrage was focused entirely on her art and had little to do with any emotional links she might feel towards Ruthven Downs. She hadn’t even seemed moved by the touching story revealed in her mother’s diary, which she’d almost certainly read by now. The sole source of her distress was the paintings in the shed. She was simply using Magnus’s letter as a vehicle for revenge.
Jackie wished she could take Hugh aside to point this out, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d probably realised this for himself. And he’d opened this conversation about the fairness of their inheritance as soon as he’d seen his father’s letter, so he was unlikely to retreat. His sister’s motivation was probably irrelevant.
‘So let’s proceed.’ Deborah thumped the arm of her chair. ‘I believe I’ve made my position quite clear.’
‘But you’re not going to demand the lot, are you, Mum?’
Everyone stared at Xavier, who’d been quiet until now.
His mother’s mouth pursed in a self-righteous little pout. ‘I’m certainly entitled to it all,’ she said. ‘For starters, I could make a fair claim solely on the basis of my father’s letter. But now with the disappointment of finding those paintings – you know how upset I was. You were upset, too.’
Xavier fiddled with a loose thread hanging from the seam of his striped pants. ‘Thing is, I’m feeling a bit uneasy about this now I’ve had a couple of hours to calm down. I know I stirred things up. Sure, I was upset for you, but I’m also remembering your first reaction when Uncle Hugh told you about Granddad’s letter.’
Deborah’s mouth gaped as she stared at her son, clearly shocked by his sudden disloyalty.
‘The last thing you wanted was a cattle property.’
‘But that was before.’ Deborah swallowed and sat even straighter in her chair if that were possible, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. ‘What are you trying to do, Xavier?’
He shrugged, and looked around the room with a shy, slightly rueful smile. ‘I don’t want to make enemies here. This lot are the only family we’ve got.’
‘Yes, and you’re important to us, too,’ Hugh reminded him gently.
‘I just want justice,’ Deborah said, but there was meekness in her voice now, and Jackie sensed that she was backing down.
Xavier fiddled with the beaded end of a dreadlock. ‘I know I was calling it a crime,’ he said to Hugh, ‘the way those paintings were stowed away and everything, but I can see you were trying to help.’ Slowly he switched his careful gaze to his mother. ‘And your sales have been fine lately.’
At this, Deborah nodded. ‘They’ve been good.’
‘And if Uncle Hugh’s handing the paintings back, you’ll be able to make more money from them. There’s nothing to stop you selli
ng them again. I reckon with your reputation now, they’ll make quite a splash.’
‘They should, yes.’ Deborah sounded less sure of her ground now.
Jackie could have hugged Xavier. He was almost a different fellow this evening.
Now Seth spoke up. ‘So, if we need to come up with a strategy moving forward, wouldn’t the fairest thing be a family trust or some kind of shared company?’
‘Of course.’ Hugh shot a direct glance at Deborah. ‘It should have happened years ago.’
Deborah shrugged.
‘You wouldn’t object to discussing this now?’ Hugh asked her.
Another shrug.
For the first time at this meeting, Flora spoke up. ‘I think it sounds like a very sensible idea.’ She’d even put her phone away, completely out of sight. ‘But we’d need to put a fair amount of thought into the way everything was shared. For example, we’d have to take into account the big effort Mum and Dad have put in here over a working lifetime. And then there’s your involvement, Seth.’
Flora sounded so grown up. Perceptive too. Jackie knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but it was certainly unexpected. It seemed the younger generation were coming into their own.
‘Yes, you’re a very important consideration, Seth,’ chipped in Hugh. He looked around at everyone, as if to include them in his statement. ‘Until now, I guess we’ve all assumed that Jackie and I will eventually retire and leave Seth here to run the place. If we go ahead with a family company or a trust fund now, it would probably be best to sell Ruthven Downs. So it’s Seth who stands to lose the most. We’d have to compensate him for that.’
‘Sounds fair to me,’ said Xavier.
Jackie had been watching Seth closely, but he’d kept his expression almost deadpan. ‘How do you feel about it, Seth?’
Before he could answer, footsteps sounded on the verandah. And then, Alice Miller appeared at the door with Charlie in her arms and Seth’s blue cattle dog at her heels.
Quite a picture the girl made, framed in the doorway, with the last rays of the setting sun behind her, lighting her bright hair to a flame.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ she said, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid Charlie’s had a bit of an upset. Can I speak to you for a moment, Seth?’
The Grazier's Wife Page 32