Hello from the Gillespies

by Monica McInerney

  ‘Hi, sugar,’ he said. ‘What beautiful eyes you have.’

  Angela gave a snort.

  Genevieve frowned. Sugar? Ig hadn’t said that in rehearsal. ‘Introduce yourself,’ she hissed.

  ‘My name’s Nick Gillespie,’ Ig said, in a strange growling voice. ‘Give us a beer, love.’

  There was another snort from Angela. Even Nick was grinning. Celia, however, wasn’t. She didn’t seem to be finding it funny at all. She seemed to be clutching her stomach as much as Ig had been, and Victoria now was. As if in sympathy, Genevieve’s stomach gave a sudden cramp.

  Ig and Lindy continued with their lines. They’d all grown up hearing how their parents had met.

  ‘I’m lost, love,’ Ig growled. ‘Can you help me?’

  ‘Sure, I can draw you a map,’ Lindy said, her accent now more Irish than English.

  ‘That’d be beaut,’ Ig said, still in the strangely deep voice. ‘Did I tell you how beautiful your eyes are?’

  Genevieve looked out at their audience again, expecting to see her parents laughing. Perhaps even staring affectionately at each other. Instead, they just looked sweaty and uncomfortable. Celia appeared to be in real pain. As Genevieve watched, she stood up, swaying slightly.

  ‘Can you all please excuse me for a moment?’ She walked quickly into the house.

  Seconds later, Angela stood up too. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Could you please wait for me?’

  Celia didn’t come back. Angela came back briefly, just as Nick left. When he returned, Angela left again. They all kept apologising. Genevieve felt another cramp in her stomach. She looked over at Victoria. She looked terrible. So did Lindy. She’d taken off the black wig and was bathed in sweat.

  ‘Is it just me,’ Lindy said, ‘or do you feel as if you —’

  She didn’t get a chance to finish. Beside her, Ig threw off the hat, ran to the edge of the verandah and was violently sick. Two minutes later, on the other side of the verandah, so was Lindy. Victoria made it as far as the sink in the laundry. They could hear her retching.

  The performance was abandoned. There was no one left to perform it or watch it. They were all too busy taking turns in the bathrooms.

  Two hours later, during a brief respite from her own violent cramps, Angela worked out what had happened. Food poisoning. The prawns were most likely to blame. Genevieve had talked her through their shopping trip to Port Augusta. It seemed that she had bought the prawns first and left them in the boot of the car while they did the rest of the shopping, in thirty-eight degrees. The prawns went back into the fridge when they got home, but it was too late. The rot had literally started. The prawns were so smothered in Marie Rose sauce they hadn’t noticed any difference in the taste.

  They were all sick for the next two days. Any plans to go for post-Christmas walks, drives, even camping overnight, were cancelled. The heatwave continued. There were daily fire risk warnings, reports of blazes in the nearby Flinders Ranges National Park.

  By the morning of the third day, the Gillespies were finally recovering, able to eat small bits of toast. Celia, however, seemed just as bad, if not worse. She was still unable to keep anything down. She was only able to take sips of water. She seemed to be sleeping all the time.

  Now over the worst of her own cramps, Angela rang the hospital for advice. Within an hour she was driving Celia into Hawker. She was back four hours later, on her own. Celia had been admitted. She was severely dehydrated, the doctor had said. He agreed it sounded like the prawns were to blame. Most likely a bug called Vibrio parahaemolyticus, he said. Bad enough for healthy people like the Gillepsies, but dangerous in elderly people, children, pregnant women. Ig was recovering quickly, Angela had been glad to tell him. But she’d been right to bring Celia in.

  When Angela got back to Errigal, she reported that Celia had already started to look brighter. She was in a ward with two other women, both of whom she knew from her years of visiting the area. She’d be there for at least three days, the doctor thought. Possibly longer, depending on how she responded.

  Angela didn’t say she thought Celia seemed happier in the hospital than she had been with them. She also didn’t say that she felt the same way.

  Two nights before New Year’s Eve, the weather finally broke in one wild storm. The signs were there from early morning, the sky an ominous deep red. Huge billowing clouds came into view throughout the day, increasing in depth and size, shifting shades from grey to black. Even after all these years Angela still marvelled at the build-up to an outback storm. Nick checked the generator. During the last big storm, the whole town of Hawker had lost power for nearly twenty-four hours.

  Celia was back home again. One or two of the Gillespies had been in to Hawker to visit her every day. Angela had brought her home again that afternoon. Celia was still frail, but there was no mistaking her much improved mood. She’d clearly loved all the attention in hospital.

  They gathered on the front verandah to watch the storm hit. It was a spectacular show, a huge sky of black clouds split by sheets of lightning, the air echoing with the thunder, and then the rain: a great onslaught of water. Ig ran out into it, as he always did during storms, leaping and jumping, holding his face up to the sky. He was drenched in seconds. The girls joined him, standing out in the downpour, their arms outstretched.

  They all welcomed the end of the heatwave. Ig played outside in his cubby for hours. The three girls started another TV box-set marathon. Celia seemed content to stay in her room and be brought her meals on a tray, occasionally joining the family to watch a little television. Nick had taken up residence in the office again. When he wasn’t there, he was over at the Lawsons’. He’d been asked to lend a hand with some stock work. For several days running, he was gone before dawn.

  In the meantime, Angela did what she’d always done when everyone was home. She cooked, cleaned, did the washing, swept the verandah, did more cooking and more cleaning. Not for the first time, she realised it took less work to look after her station-stay visitors than it did her own family. Her visitors were much more appreciative too, willing to lend a hand as needed. No matter how independent Genevieve, Victoria and Lindy had been, or not, off the station, they turned back into teenagers once they were home. Helping when they thought of it, cooking the occasional meal, but otherwise content to let Angela take care of them.

  Not that Joan had been sympathetic when Angela brought it up during one of their phone calls. ‘Why would they do anything when you do everything for them? You’ve dug your own grave. Stop cooking and cleaning for a few days and see if that spurs them into action.’

  ‘I wouldn’t last a day,’ Angela said. ‘I couldn’t bear the mess.’

  Joan had laughed. ‘Then you’ve only got yourself to blame.’

  No one mentioned restaging the concert. The moment had passed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The morning of New Year’s Eve, Genevieve, Victoria and Lindy set their alarms for five-thirty a.m. to watch the sun rise on the last day of the year. If their parents had their traditions, this was their own.

  They left the house wearing their pyjamas, sneakers on their feet, following the dusty path from the homestead gate. It was a fifteen-minute walk. They were quiet until they reached their destination, a hill that looked out over the entire Errigal property and beyond, from the jagged lines of the Chace Range across to the distinctive curves of Wilpena Pound.

  They’d first made this journey the year the twins turned seven, when Lindy was four. Angela and Nick had woken them just as the sun was rising. All five of them headed out across the yard, in pyjamas and assorted footwear. ‘But where are we going?’ Genevieve had kept asking. ‘It’s a secret,’ Angela told her. It was too long a walk across bumpy ground for them to be blindfolded, but Nick kept telling them not to look. As they walked hand-in-hand across the stony soil, they’d felt the ground rising under their feet.

  ‘Okay, girls,’ Nick said when they stopped climbing. ‘Look up now.’


  ‘Surprise!’ he and Angela chorused as the girls opened their eyes.

  Before them stood a set of three swings built especially by Nick. The bars were painted a bright red. The three wooden seats were in their favourite colours: blue for Genevieve, green for Victoria, yellow for Lindy. Nick had even painted their names on the seats. They rushed to try them out, calling to their parents to give them a push, squealing as they swung higher and higher.

  Back then, the swings were the main attraction. As the girls grew older, it was the view that became special. If friends came to stay, the visit always included a dawn walk in pyjamas and sneakers to what they all now called Swing Hill. Angela had even brought some of their station-stay visitors here over the years. It was the perfect place for spectacular photographs.

  Genevieve, Victoria and Lindy took their seats now, in their assigned swings. It was a tighter squeeze than when they were children, but they were still able to fit – just, in Victoria’s case.

  ‘It’s magnificent out here, isn’t it?’ Lindy said, starting to swing slowly back and forth.

  ‘Sure is,’ Genevieve said, still half-asleep.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Victoria said.

  ‘We took it for granted when we were young, didn’t we?’ Lindy said. ‘All this space, this wildness. It makes me wish I could fly or run, run as fast as a gazelle. Or write an amazing song or paint an incredible picture, create something out of myself. It’s so inspiring.’

  ‘At least it will be until all the mining trucks arrive,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘But they won’t be digging on this part of the property, will they?’ Lindy said.

  ‘They’ve leased this half of the station, Lindy. If they find what they’re looking for right here, they’re not going to say, “Oh, what a shame, millions of dollars of diamonds are just waiting for us, but we can’t dig them up, that’s where the swings are.”’

  ‘They won’t find anything out here,’ Lindy said. ‘I just know it.’

  ‘Because you’ve got supernatural powers of mineral detection?’

  ‘It’s just a feeling I have. I’m trying to learn to trust my feelings. Also, this half is where the Aboriginal paintings are. They’ll never be allowed to dig near them, no matter what they find.’

  Genevieve raised an eyebrow. ‘Such innocence. How refreshing.’

  Lindy kept swinging. ‘You have to stay positive, Genevieve. That’s my New Year’s resolution. To stay focused, and turn optimistic thoughts into a positive future. I’ve already got a good feeling about next year. My cushions have taken off better than I could have hoped.’

  ‘How many new orders now?’ Victoria asked as she swung past Lindy.

  ‘Four, all from the party. And I’m sure I’ll get even more soon, once word of mouth starts.’

  ‘Well done,’ Genevieve said. ‘One box of cushion stuffing used, only five hundred to go.’

  Victoria shot her twin a stern glance. ‘Any word from Richard, Lindy?’

  ‘Not yet, but he’s still away camping with the Lawsons.’

  ‘Lucky old Richard,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘Any word from Fred, Victoria?’ Lindy asked.

  ‘Very funny,’ Victoria said.

  ‘I’m just teasing you. I know he’s camping too. He’s got really handsome, hasn’t he? It would be so romantic if you did get back together, wouldn’t it? Do you think you will? I mean, not that I’d like to be related to Horrible Jane any more now than I would have ten years ago, but Fred’s always been different to the other Lawsons, hasn’t he? Nicer. And she wouldn’t be my sister-in-law anyway, would she? Would it just be that Fred was my brother-in-law?’

  Behind Lindy’s back, Genevieve rolled her eyes at Victoria.

  Victoria ignored her. ‘We’ve only talked to each other twice, Lindy. But if I do decide to marry him, I promise you’ll be the first to know.’

  ‘I bet I won’t be. I bet you’ll tell Genevieve before you tell me.’

  They swung in silence for a minute, competing with each other for height in an unspoken contest. The sky around them began to change colour as the sun rose higher. The dark blue began to lighten; a band of red around the horizon started to disappear.

  Lindy was the first to stop. ‘I’d better go back. I told Mum I’d cook breakfast for everyone today.’ She dragged her sneakers on the ground to slow the swinging, sending up clouds of dust. ‘It’s great having you both back, by the way. I was worried it might be tricky, all of us home again at the same time, but it’s working out so well, isn’t it?’

  ‘It sure is,’ Genevieve said, coughing at the dust. ‘It’s brilliant to be back.’

  ‘Don’t talk about me while I’m gone, will you?’ Lindy said.

  ‘Of course not,’ they said in unison.

  They waited until she was out of earshot.

  ‘I was lying then,’ Genevieve said. ‘I hate being back.’

  ‘Genevieve! You don’t, do you? I love being back. Being back with you, especially.’

  ‘I’m not talking about that. I’d live in hell with you if I had to. What I hate is having nothing to do. At least you’ve got a job, some contact with the outside world. You’re not marooned out here like me, in the middle of nowhere, with no prospects, parents with a marriage in crisis, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife – if your little brother hadn’t fallen onto the knife already.’

  ‘Can’t you try to look at it as a holiday? Lindy’s right. It is beautiful out here. Look at the view. The colours of the rocks. The huge sky. The clear light. Mum’s tourists pay a fortune for this. We get it for free.’

  ‘It makes me feel sick.’

  ‘Genevieve! How can you say that? I love it out here. If Mum hadn’t already started up her own station-stay business, I’d have been tempted to try it myself. Wouldn’t that be a brilliant job? Taking people out on walks and drives, answering all their questions, camping miles from anyone or anywhere —’

  Genevieve gave a mock shudder. ‘Maybe I’ve been away too long or maybe I’ve seen too many of those apocalyptic films. All this space makes me think a murdering lunatic is going to drive up any minute and stab us to death.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll really sleep well tonight.’

  ‘I mean it. At least in New York if someone tried to attack me, I could scream and a thousand people would be in earshot. Here it’s like being in outer space.’

  ‘That’s what people love about being here,’ Victoria said. ‘The isolation, the wildness —’

  ‘Sure, when it’s temporary, when they have real homes with real people around them to go home to afterwards. If they’re not trapped here like we are.’

  ‘Do you want to move away already?’

  ‘I can’t afford to. And I don’t want to leave you all yet. I’m just bored, that’s my problem. I need something interesting to occupy my long, lonely days.’

  ‘Apart from sniping at all of us and doing your best to undermine Lindy’s confidence?’

  ‘I don’t have to undermine Lindy. She manages it perfectly well on her own.’

  Victoria laughed. ‘Give her a break. Stop being mean.’

  ‘Mean is my default position. I was born mean. Don’t you remember? I pushed you out of the way so I could be born first.’

  ‘I let you. I had better manners.’

  They swung in silence for a few more minutes.

  ‘So then, what about you and Fred Lawson?’

  ‘What is it with all of you and me and Fred Lawson?’

  ‘You’re hiding something, aren’t you?’

  ‘I thought you’d stopped doing that ESP stuff on me.’

  Genevieve just waited.

  ‘He gave me a letter. The night of the party.’

  ‘He what? And you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘I needed to think about it.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You needed to tell me about it. Immediately. What did he say?’

  Victoria stopped swinging, then reached into her pyjama pocket and
took out an envelope.

  ‘You carry it with you? Even in your pyjamas?’

  ‘You think I’d leave anything like this lying around? With Ig and Lindy in the house?’

  ‘You sure you want me to read this?’

  Victoria nodded.

  Genevieve brought her swing to a standstill. She read the letter twice. When she looked up, her eyes were glittering.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Victoria said.

  ‘Did he tell you any of this ten years ago?’

  ‘Not like that. I knew he needed to get away from his family for a while. He’d talked a lot about how domineering his father could be. About how his life had been mapped out for him.’

  Genevieve read aloud. ‘Going to Canada ten years ago was the best decision I could ever have made. I felt like myself there, Victoria. Not one of the Lawsons, the oldest Lawson, Kevin Lawson’s son. I was able to make mistakes. Do stupid things. Do good things. On my own two feet. But ten years ago I also made the worst decision of my life. I should have asked you to come with me. I should have begged you to come with me. I should have asked you to marry me, and maybe we could have started a life over there together. But back then I didn’t think that was fair. I knew how much you loved Errigal, that you wanted to take over from your father if it worked out that way. I didn’t want you to have to choose between your family and me.

  ‘I was ready to come back. It was the right time. Not everyone around here knows this, but Dad’s got big plans for the future. Expansion. Diversification. He wants me to be involved. I’ve got lots of ideas I want to try, and Dad is backing me. But I can’t stop thinking about something else I wanted but didn’t have the courage to ask for ten years ago. And I’m too scared to ask you this face to face in case you say no. I loved being with you for those four years, Victoria. As soon as I saw you in Port Pirie, I realised nothing had changed. I know you don’t know what your plans are yet, and I know we need to get to know each other again, and I wouldn’t even expect any kind of answer from you for weeks or months or even years, if that’s how much time you needed. But maybe you’d think about it at least.