‘I’m ten years old.’
‘The non-alcoholic punch. Ig, come on, turn it off, get up and shut the door, then come back, sit down and pay attention. This is serious.’
He got up, shut the door, returned to his spot and flopped down on the floor again.
‘Victoria, you too. Wear the red lipstick. But listen to this first.’
Genevieve started to read. ‘Hello, it’s Angela back again. Can you believe a year has passed since I last wrote to you all? I hope you’ve all had a great twelve months and are now looking forward to special family Christmas celebrations together. It’s been a terrible year for the Gillespies. Everything seems to have gone wrong for us.’ She stopped there and looked up.
‘That’s not the letter she showed me,’ Lindy said.
‘Keep reading,’ Victoria said.
‘Keep reading,’ Ig said.
Genevieve kept reading.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It came without warning. From the kitchen Angela had heard the voices of her children in the living room, registering them on her mother radar. She’d heard some laughter, talking, and then Genevieve’s voice for a long time. If she had known what Genevieve was reading aloud, she would have put down the sausage rolls and run out the kitchen door, got into the car and driven down the highway. She would have done anything to avoid what she was now facing.
Her four children, her four furious children, standing across the table from her and Joan, shouting at her. At least her three daughters were shouting at her. Ig was trying to take Genevieve’s phone. ‘Let me see what she wrote about me again. Genevieve, let me see it.’
‘Mum, what were you thinking?’ Genevieve said.
Victoria was in tears. ‘That was all my private business, Mum. How can I face the station manager this afternoon?’
‘So I’m a drama queen, am I?’ Lindy said. ‘I can’t believe you think that. I’m emotional, not dramatic.’
‘Genevieve, please,’ Ig said, jumping up as his sister held her phone aloft. ‘Give it to me!’
‘Ig, no. You already heard what she said about you. You’re a weirdo but at least she still loves you. She seems to think her three daughters are just basket-cases.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, calm down, all of you, would you?’ It was Joan speaking.
‘Easy for you to say, Joan,’ Genevieve said. ‘Your mother hasn’t just broadcast your family secrets to dozens of people around the world.’
‘One hundred,’ Joan said.
‘What?’
‘It went to one hundred people. I counted the names when I received mine.’
‘You got it too?’
‘Of course. I’ve got your mother’s Christmas letter every year since the first one. I’ve read it every year too. Unlike all of you.’
‘Have they been like this every year? Mum? Have they?’
Angela found her voice. ‘No, this was kind of a once-off.’
‘Has Dad seen it?’ Victoria asked. ‘Has he read what you said about him?’
Joan and Angela exchanged glances.
‘Yes, he has,’ Angela said.
‘And he’s still living in the same house as you?’ Genevieve said.
Lindy started crying. ‘Wait until Horrible Jane and her family see this. They already laughed at these letters. They’ll be in hysterics now.’
‘So what?’ Victoria said. ‘Who cares what the Lawsons think? You care too much what everyone thinks. You’ll never please everyone, you’ll just keep tying yourself in knots – and what’s the point of that?’
‘Says you! Look what Mum told everyone about you, having that affair. Mum, how did you guess? Or did Genevieve blab?’
‘I didn’t breathe a word!’ Genevieve said. ‘At least, I don’t think I did.’
‘Genevieve!’ Victoria said. ‘You promised.’
‘So it’s true, then?’ Joan said.
‘No!’ Victoria said. ‘Well, actually, yes. Ig, go outside.’
‘No,’ Ig said.
‘But isn’t he married?’ Lindy said. ‘With kids and everything?’
‘He’s married with kids. I’m not. I didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t take the moral high ground with me, Lindy. At least I didn’t come running home dragging a huge debt behind me.’
‘Actually, you did,’ Genevieve said. ‘So did I. That’s why we’re here, remember.’
‘Well, we can’t stay here now, can we?’ Victoria said. ‘After being publicly humiliated like this.’
‘By our own mother,’ Lindy added.
‘Sit down, everyone. Please.’ It was Joan again. ‘It’s good to have this out in the open, if you ask me. Your mother was going to tell you today, in any case.’
‘I was?’ Angela said. ‘Yes, I was.’
‘A lot of people who will be at the party received it, so she thought you may as well be prepared.’
‘Forget the party. We have to cancel it,’ Genevieve said.
‘We can’t,’ Angela said. ‘It’s too late.’
‘Mum, come on! How can we stand there smiling and pretending we’re a normal happy family when every single person knows what a mess we all are?’
‘It was an accident, I promise. I never meant to send it.’
‘And on the bright side, she has had some very nice replies,’ Joan said. ‘From all sorts of people. Even your old boss, Victoria.’
‘Keith got the letter too? That’s why he wants to see me. Oh no.’
‘What’s that saying? Every cloud has a silver lining?’ Joan said. ‘That’s why the Ryans want you to cut their hair too, Genevieve.’
‘That’s it. I can’t go there now.’
‘Of course you can,’ Joan said. ‘Everyone around here got it, anyway. And those that didn’t have probably had it forwarded to them by now.’
Ig had slipped away, unseen. He came in again now with a handful of paper. ‘Here’s some printouts if anyone wants to read it again.’
‘Ig!’ Angela said. ‘Where did you get those?’
‘Off your email. I know your password.’
Angela suddenly sat down, holding her head.
‘Mum, are you all right?’ Victoria said.
‘Of course she’s not!’ Lindy said. ‘I’ve kept trying to tell you both. She’s losing her mind.’
‘Lindy!’ Joan stepped in again.
‘Look what she’s just done to us, Joan! I can’t go to the party. I’m never leaving this house again.’ She ran out of the room in tears.
‘Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Lindy,’ Genevieve called after her. ‘Hold on. If Mum was right about Lindy —’ She grabbed a printout from Ig, ignoring his squawk of protest.
Sitting next to Angela at the table, Joan gave her friend’s hand a quick squeeze.
Genevieve read a few sentences under her breath. ‘Actually, I sound quite cool. Shallow, but cool. Thanks, Mum. And your dream has come true, too. I’m home for good. It’s like you cast a spell on me.’
‘It’s not funny, Genevieve,’ Victoria said.
‘Yes, it is. And you sound very sweet in your section, Victoria, if you ask me.’ She read on, then frowned, looking up. ‘Mum, has Celia read this?’
‘I think so.’
‘And she still came? She’s still here?’
Angela nodded.
Victoria was now reading it over her twin’s shoulder. ‘“An insufferable snob and an interfering old bat.” Mum, what were you thinking? Were you trying to scare Celia off?’
‘It didn’t work, did it?’ It was Celia speaking.
They all turned around. She was standing in the doorway.
‘Am I imagining it,’ she said, ‘or do I smell something burning?’
Thirty minutes later, Angela and Joan were standing in front of the house. Joan was leaving, but had promised to return later that day.
‘Can you please hurry back?’ Angela said. ‘I need you here.’
‘No, you don’t. You know what to do. Don’t explain too much
. Don’t apologise. You can’t change it, so now you just have to deal with it. And it could have been worse.’
‘It could have? How?’
Joan smiled. ‘You could have said something mean about me.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was after three by the time Joan returned. The kitchen was empty. She called out a hello. There was no answer. She went into the living room. Empty. She eventually found Genevieve in the dining room, wrapping plastic cutlery in paper napkins.
‘Thank God someone’s alive,’ Joan said. ‘I was starting to think you’d all run away or killed each other.’
‘It might happen yet,’ Genevieve said. ‘This is either the calm before the storm, or the calm after the storm. Victoria’s gone to meet her radio station man, very upset. Lindy’s sewing, very upset. Ig’s sulking somewhere because he had to dismantle his cubby to help Lindy find more thread. Celia’s either reading in her room or secretly sipping sherry in her room.’
‘And your parents?’
‘Dad’s gone off in the four-wheel drive, presumably also upset. Mum’s out in her studio, either hiding or making more of those sculptures, which, between you and me, don’t look like anything I can recognise. Fun, aren’t we? “Hello from the Gillespies”, indeed.’
Joan took a seat and started wrapping cutlery too. ‘Genevieve, I’m worried about your mother.’
‘Join the club. Seriously, Joan, what got into her, writing all that stuff? You know her better than anyone. What was she thinking?’
‘It really was an accident. She wrote it, but she never meant to send it. Then in all the fuss with Ig’s finger, your father accidentally —’
‘I know how it happened, it’s what she wrote that’s the worry. I read it again after you left. As I said, I got off lightly. But all that stuff about her and Dad? It was so personal. What happened to them while I was away? I thought they had a good marriage.’
‘Marriages go through stages. All couples have their ups and downs —’
‘Joan, it’s me. Your goddaughter. Don’t give me a saccharine answer. This is more than ups and downs. Mum made it sound like they haven’t spoken to each other in months. What do you think is going on? Who’s this Will? Has Mum been having her own little cyber affair?’
‘I don’t know. She’s never mentioned him to me.’
‘Is he even real? Does she actually know someone in London called that?’
‘I’ve no idea. We’ve been busy with the other parts of her letter. We haven’t got to Will yet.’
Genevieve put down the cutlery. ‘Right. Let’s find out now. Come with me.’
Joan followed her down the hall to the office. Genevieve took a seat at the computer and called up a search engine. ‘So, let’s begin.’
‘Genevieve, I don’t think —’
‘Joan, come on. You’re worried about her, I’m worried about her. We need to arm ourselves with information. What do we know about him so far?’
‘Just what was in her letter,’ Joan said. ‘His name’s Will. He’s an architect in London.’
Genevieve typed. Pages of entries appeared within seconds. ‘Too many, too vague. We’ll need to narrow it down. Where exactly did Mum grow up? I know it was London, but do you remember the suburb or the street name or anything? Actually, what am I doing?’ She spun around in the chair. ‘Forget Google. I’ll get Ig to hack into her emails and we can see for ourselves if she and this Will are in contact.’ She was about to call for Ig when Joan stopped her.
‘That’s going too far.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay Ig for his time. She’s out in the studio if you want to keep her distracted while I do it. Because you know I will, don’t you? Even if you tell me not to?’
‘You’re incorrigible.’
Genevieve grinned. ‘I know. And I’ve got worse since I was away.’
In her studio, Angela wasn’t working with clay or firing any of her sculptures. She was just sitting on the old bench.
Joan came in and sat beside her. ‘Well done. The worst is over.’
‘It’s not over. It’s just started.’
‘No, you’re dealing with the fallout, but the main explosion is over.’
‘Nick still won’t talk to me. Victoria is furious. Ig is hurt. Lindy’s being Lindy and —’
‘Genevieve’s having the time of her life. I think she was worried things might be a bit dull for her back here. You’ve certainly changed that.’
Angela managed a smile.
‘I think you should know she’s in there googling that Will you wrote about. She’s also about to bribe Ig to hack into your email account.’
‘She won’t find anything. Not on my email anyway.’
‘But he is a real person?’
Angela nodded. ‘He was my first proper boyfriend. I was going out with him before I came to Australia, before I met Nick.’
‘And lately you started wondering what would have happened if you hadn’t met Nick? If you’d stayed with Will?’
Angela nodded.
‘There’s nothing wrong with wondering “what if”, Ange.’
‘You’re telling me you have a fantasy life too?’
‘Not quite as elaborate as yours, no. But what woman hasn’t sometimes wished she was someone else? Or wondered how her life could have been different, if she’d made other choices?’
‘Nick doesn’t agree. He thinks it means I never wanted to stay with him. That I never loved him, or the kids or —’ She stopped there, her voice faltering.
Joan patted her hand. ‘Give him time.’
‘He’s not just furious, Joan. He’s so hurt.’
‘Understandable, I suppose.’
‘We were on shaky ground before the letter. Even when it was only the two of us, when Ig was at school and the girls away. He’s changed, Joan. It’s like he’s put up a barrier between us. As if he’s run out of things to say to me.’
‘How long have you been together now? Thirty-plus years? It’s a long time.’
‘So is that it for us, then? It’s over? What about you and Glenn? You’ve been married even longer. Did this happen to you?’
‘Oh, Ange, every marriage is different,’ Joan said. ‘We’ve settled into what I’d call easy companionship. I’d do anything for him, I know he’d do anything for me. We still have the kids and the grandkids to talk about. What more can I expect? Heated arguments about French philosophy or world politics as we relax in the parlour after our gourmet dinner each night?’
Angela smiled, picturing taciturn, gruff Glenn engaged in a parlour discussion.
Joan continued. ‘I said it to Genevieve and I’ll say it to you too. Long marriages go through stages. All couples have their ups and downs. It’s just your turn to have a stage.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Angela said. She rubbed the back of her head, closing her eyes.
Joan gave her a concerned look. ‘Are you still getting those headaches?’
Angela nodded. ‘I’ll go to the doctor again after Christmas. He said he’d send me to the specialist in Adelaide if I was still getting them.’
‘You can’t wait until after Christmas.’
‘There isn’t time before then. The party. The house full of kids. Celia. All this with the letter —’
Joan stood up. ‘We’re making time. If ever you needed to be in good health, it’s now.’
‘I can’t. I’ve got cooking to do. Two hundred people coming in a few days’ time.’
‘Too bad. We’re going to the doctor in Port Augusta. You and me. Now.’
‘Joan, I can’t. The sausage rolls —’
‘Angela? Pardon my language, I’m about to say a sentence I may never say again in my life.’
Angela waited.
‘Fuck the sausage rolls.’
Angela sat in the car while Joan went inside. She told Genevieve that she and Angela were going to Port Augusta, deliberately making it sound as though it was a shopping trip for the party. Genevieve wa
s busy googling; she didn’t look up. ‘Have fun. Try to get more info about this mysterious Will out of her, can you? There seems to be about two hundred thousand architects in the UK with the first name of William. Ig couldn’t hack into her email, either. She’s changed her password. Try to get that out of her as well, could you?’
Nearly two hundred kilometres away, Victoria was in the radio station in Port Pirie. She had started as a cadet there ten years earlier, after doing a three-year journalism degree in Adelaide. She’d done her first radio bulletins, reading from newspaper clippings as well as wire services. She’d produced her first segment, researched one-off specials. Then she’d moved back to Adelaide and worked as a producer on state-wide programs before taking the big step and moving to Sydney. Where it had gone so well until it had all gone spectacularly, publicly wrong.
At least her old boss, Keith, didn’t beat around the bush. ‘That was one hell of a letter your mother sent out. You didn’t mind?’
‘She only did it so you’d hire me again,’ Victoria said lightly. At least he’d raised the subject right away. ‘And look, it worked. Here I am.’
‘So you are. And what’s that saying? It’s better to be talked about than not talked about? Sorry I can’t make your party, by the way. It’s my youngest’s fourth birthday that day. Okay, to business. So you’re back. For how long?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘I’ll give you a six-month contract now if I know you’ll stay here for it. But if you’re going to head off as soon as you get a job offer in Adelaide or interstate, forget it. I want you to make a documentary series, family life on the land, told through different generations. Good interviews, good editing, good timeslot. But if you start it, I want you to see it through to the end.’
‘That sounds brilliant, Keith. Thank you. But do I have to decide now? Right now?’
‘Yep.’
She tried to ignore a mental image of Genevieve standing in front of her shaking her head and shouting, No, don’t do it! Six months? We’ll go mad out here!
She blinked. Genevieve disappeared.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said.
There was a brief discussion about her salary and conditions. Yes, she told him, she would be living back on Errigal. No, it would be no trouble commuting. Keith also made it clear it would be her project, and she could do it her way. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t be hostage to anyone else’s rampant ego or out-of-control drink and drug problems. Keith was so straightforward. He always had been. Thank God any kind of affair with him was out of the question too. He was happily married, with a few kids now, she’d heard. She’d learned her lesson with married men. He was still good-looking, though, in a lanky way. Once upon a time, she’d had a bit of a crush on him, in fact. Twelve years older than her, her first proper boss, he’d even initiated a kiss one drunken Christmas party, the first year she started working here. She’d known it was nothing serious, though. A year later, she heard that he was engaged. She’d even gone to their wedding. What was her name? Jenny? Jilly? She glanced at the desk. Yes, there was a photo of three very cute-looking children.
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