Hello from the Gillespies

by Monica McInerney

‘Do I still look okay? Ig, do I? Please stay out of the way once he gets here, all of you. Or if you insist on hanging around at the start, just to be polite, can you please at least try to be nice?’

  ‘We’re always nice,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘I am. You’re not,’ Victoria said. ‘You can be really horrible.’

  ‘Stop it, please, both of you,’ Lindy said.

  Another minute passed. There was still no sign of a car.

  ‘What are you going to do with him?’ Genevieve asked. ‘If he ever actually gets here.’

  ‘Oh God, I don’t know. Should I take him for a drive?’

  ‘You could, but Mum’s got the good car, remember. You can always take him in Dad’s filthy old ute, I guess. If you don’t mind getting mud all over that nice dress.’

  ‘I didn’t think of that! Have I got time to change? What should I wear? Jeans? Shorts?’

  ‘Too late. Here he comes.’

  They watched the dust cloud moving closer. It was one of the advantages of living out here. There was little chance of anyone arriving unexpectedly.

  Ig clambered up the ladder beside the water tank and started waving at the car.

  ‘Ig, get down!’ Lindy called. ‘Don’t embarrass me.’

  ‘I’m not being embarrassing. I’m being friendly.’

  ‘You don’t even know him.’

  ‘I do. I met him at the party. Anyway, I’m not waving to him.’

  ‘Who are you waving to?’

  ‘Horrible Jane. She’s in the car with him.’

  Two hours later, they were all out in front of the house again, this time waving goodbye.

  It had been an excruciating afternoon. Jane had come bounding out of the driver’s seat of the car, all false cheer. ‘I couldn’t let Richard drive over on his own. He’d have got lost!’ She started talking nonstop about her family Christmas and New Year’s camping trip.

  As soon as she could, Lindy invited Genevieve into the kitchen under the pretext of getting drinks. She begged her not to go anywhere. ‘I can only handle Horrible Jane when you’re around.’

  ‘But what about you and Richard? Your whirlwind romance? Your privacy?’

  ‘Forget that. She’s here as his bodyguard, can’t you tell? It’s a disaster.’

  An hour later, Genevieve conceded Lindy was right. Richard hadn’t got a word in. Jane was still doing all the talking, about herself and how well she was doing in Melbourne.

  Genevieve and Victoria tried to make it easier for Lindy, but Jane got to be too much for them as well. Victoria slipped away first, then Genevieve. Ig was long gone. As soon as she could, Lindy excused herself and went to find them.

  ‘She’s ruined everything,’ Lindy said. ‘It’s over with Richard before it’s even started.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Genevieve said. ‘You’re doing really well. You’re almost coming across as a normal person. And he wants to be here, I can tell. He’s trying to talk to you.’

  ‘But she won’t let him get a word in.’

  ‘Let me see what I can do,’ Genevieve said.

  Back out on the verandah, Genevieve took a seat across from Richard and Jane. Jane was now talking about one of her brother’s excellent cricket scores. Richard looked like he had heard about it before. Genevieve waited for Jane to take a breath and smoothly interrupted.

  ‘So, Richard, how long are you staying up here?’

  ‘Just a few more days,’ he said. ‘I leave on Saturday.’

  ‘We’re leaving together,’ Jane said. ‘Work calls for some of us!’

  ‘So soon? What a shame. Richard, you’ll have to visit again before you go. Maybe we could all meet up for a drink in the Hawker pub tomorrow night? How about that, Jane?’

  ‘Sorry, no can do,’ Jane said. ‘My cousins are coming down from Leigh Creek tomorrow, arriving about lunchtime, staying for a big family barbecue. It’s my dad’s birthday.’

  ‘How lovely,’ Genevieve said, smiling like a shark. ‘But Richard doesn’t need to be there the whole day, does he? Richard, how about we come and get you from Jane’s place tomorrow morning? We can take you on a sightseeing tour ourselves, and drop you back to Jane’s by late afternoon. So you can still meet all of her cousins, but have a brand-new outback experience with us too. There’s an incredible view from Pugilist Hill, isn’t there, Lindy? You go there a lot, don’t you?’

  ‘All the time,’ Lindy said, after a kick under the table from Victoria. ‘It’s, um —’

  ‘Breathtaking,’ Victoria said.

  ‘Breathtaking,’ Lindy repeated.

  ‘That sounds great,’ Richard said, slightly too quickly. ‘If you don’t mind, Jane?’

  ‘Of course Jane doesn’t mind!’ Genevieve said, ignoring Jane’s stormy expression. ‘She knows all about country hospitality. And Richard will still get plenty of time with your family, Jane, promise. It’s the perfect arrangement.’

  Genevieve played her final card as they were walking Jane and Richard out to their car. ‘Oh, damn, I’ve just remembered – Victoria and I promised to take Ig to Port Augusta tomorrow, didn’t we, Ig? So you’ll have to take Richard sightseeing on your own, Lindy. Is that okay? You don’t mind, Richard, do you? It would be much more fun with all of us Gillespies, but Lindy’s okay once you get used to her.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine on our own,’ Richard said, smiling.

  Jane said nothing. Her expression was enough.

  ‘Well, that’s wonderful,’ Genevieve said. ‘We’re all organised. I love it when things fall into place spontaneously like that, Victoria, don’t you?’

  ‘I certainly do, Genevieve.’

  Richard leaned out of the passenger window as the car started to move. ‘See you tomorrow, Lindy.’

  ‘See you then, Richard!’

  Lindy waited until the car was out of sight, then hugged her siblings enthusiastically, even kissing Ig. ‘Thank you! You were fantastic! If Richard and I get married, I want you all in the bridal party!’

  After she’d gone inside, Ig wiped his cheek and turned to Genevieve.

  ‘So is that true about Port Augusta?’

  ‘It’s a long drive, Ig. And it’s so hot.’

  ‘I like driving. And the car has air-conditioning,’ Ig said.

  ‘And we do actually need to go to a chemist, Genevieve,’ Victoria said pointedly. ‘Soon.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. We do,’ Genevieve said. ‘Okay, Ig, we’re on.’

  ‘What about Celia?’ Victoria asked. ‘Should we invite her?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Genevieve said. ‘You didn’t hear me say that, Ig, did you?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘But can Robbie come?’

  ‘Of course,’ Genevieve said, tousling his hair as they walked inside. ‘He can drive.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  In her Adelaide hotel room at lunchtime the next day, Angela was still in bed. She’d had plans to go to a film, do some shopping, take a walk along the river, have lunch out. Instead, she hadn’t left the room. She had slept in. Ordered room-service breakfast. Slept some more. She had just eaten room-service lunch too. She’d had only quick, polite exchanges with the two young porters who delivered her meals. The food was delicious. She’d left her tray out to be collected, as requested. Not even a dish to be washed.

  She had watched two programs on the enormous TV: a chat show from America that she had never seen before but found compelling; and a movie starring the actress who had demanded Genevieve’s sacking. Angela had taken pleasure in switching that off as soon as she recognised her.

  Around two, her mobile phone rang. She didn’t answer it. Only when it stopped ringing did she check to see who it had been. Genevieve. She felt a flash of guilt, then remembered she was supposed to be having tests. Genevieve would assume that’s where she was, not worry too much about the fact she hadn’t answered. The missed call broke into her hotel room bubble, though. She thought about what lay ahead. The four-hour drive home tomorrow, back t
o the tension between her and Nick, Celia watching it all, sowing seeds of discord in her sly way. The fun but also the noise of the children. She thought of her Christmas letter too. It was still out there somewhere, possibly being forwarded on and on, like some virus that she’d unknowingly propagated. She’d stopped checking her email in recent days, finding the replies too much to take. She wasn’t going to check it here either. Why bring the outside world in?

  But she did need to return a phone call.

  Genevieve answered after three rings. ‘Mum, hi!’

  ‘Where are you? Hawker again? It’s a great signal.’

  ‘No, the big smoke this time. Port Augusta. We brought Ig here for the day because we are such kind big sisters. Lindy’s at home hyperventilating. She’s spending the afternoon with her dreamboat. Where are you? How are the tests going?’

  ‘Great. Four down, four to go. But they can’t do the rest until late tomorrow afternoon. So I do have to stay a third night.’

  ‘You’re making this all up, aren’t you? You actually haven’t left the hotel room, have you?’

  First Joan, now Genevieve. Were they mind-readers? ‘I wish,’ she said vaguely. ‘Could you let your dad know?’

  ‘Of course. And that makes great sense to stay another night. Enjoy yourself. Hang on, Ig’s here. He wants to know whether you’re happy with the hotel or whether you want us to find you a better one?’

  ‘Tell him I love it. You chose the best one in town. I’d better go. Love to you all.’

  ‘Love to you too.’

  Her conscience niggled at her again after she hung up. How would she explain it when she had to come back again in a week to do the real tests? There was no point worrying about it now.

  She jumped as her mobile phone rang again. It was Joan.

  ‘So, how are you getting on? What were the tests like?’

  ‘They were actually fine,’ she lied. ‘I’m just back in the hotel room now.’

  ‘Wish I’d insisted I come down with you. We could have been kicking up our heels in Adelaide together. So what are you going to do tonight?’

  ‘I might just order room service, I think. I can feel a bit of a headache again.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Those tests have to be stressful. Why rush back? Why don’t you spoil yourself and book in for another night? Let me treat you. You deserve it. You’ve had a big few weeks.’

  Angela was taken aback to find her eyes filling with tears. She wished she’d told Joan the truth from the start. She’d do it face to face, she decided. For now, she told Joan what she’d just told Genevieve.

  Joan whistled. ‘Three full days of tests? They are being thorough. That’s a good sign, I guess. But don’t worry about those tonight. Forget about all of us too. Have some Angela time.’

  Angela took her at her word. She ordered room-service dinner, at what felt like the luxuriously early time of six p.m. She even had a glass of wine. There were three films she’d have liked to see, but she didn’t turn on the TV. Instead, she opened the curtains wide and sat by the window, gazing out at the city.

  There were people everywhere she looked, going home, heading to work, meeting friends, going for a drink, to see a film, eat dinner. All connected, so close to one another. Sometimes being in the city after all the space on Errigal was quite overwhelming. The room was air-conditioned, but she could imagine the heat outside rising. She’d seen the forecast earlier. Another heatwave was on the way: forty-four degrees tomorrow, the high temperatures expected to last for a week.

  She had a memory flash of her first summer on Errigal. They’d married in the autumn. It was six months before she discovered what a summer in the outback could be like. The ground that had been green turned brown. The sun beat down, day after day. She’d coped easily enough with the winter hardships – the frost, having to wait for pipes to thaw, cold rooms. She was used to that, even if the cold of the Australian winter had taken her by surprise. She’d written about it in one of her Christmas letters. I thought the sun was supposed to shine all year round here in Australia? I’ve been had! Nick had lit the open fires in their bedroom, the living room and the kitchen. The homestead was so big, but they stayed cosy in the main rooms. When summer did arrive, the thick walls and high ceilings came into their own.

  It wasn’t just the weather she’d grown accustomed to. In her early years on the station, she learned to drive not only the car, but also the ute, the tractor and the motorbike. She learned to operate the UHF radios in all the vehicles. She got used to the kerosene fridge. She’d got to grips with the party telephone line they had in the early days too, recognising which series of rings was theirs, which rings to ignore. She learned to hang up if she picked up the phone and heard voices already on the line, hard as it was to fight the temptation to eavesdrop. She’d even learned how to use a gun, in case she ever needed to shoot a snake. She had another memory flash, of the day Nick had taught her.

  ‘I’m not exactly Annie Oakley, am I?’ she said at the end of that first lesson, looking at all the cans she’d managed to miss.

  ‘Not yet,’ he’d said. ‘But you’ll get there.’

  A week later, while he was out, she spent an afternoon practising. She tried to remember his instructions. He’d told her to aim at the fence line, where the snakes were most often found. So she did, again and again.

  ‘What happened to the fence?’ he said as soon as he got home.

  She stood beside him as he tried his best not to laugh. Their new corrugated-iron fence now had hundreds of tiny pellet shots in it. It looked like a lace curtain.

  ‘It looks quite pretty, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘Lets the light in now.’

  He’d just laughed, planting a kiss on her head.

  Her memories were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Housekeeping,’ a voice called.

  She opened the door, politely declined the offer of the turn-down service but did take the chocolate. She moved back to the window, slowly eating the chocolate, looking out over the city again. She was high up, on the twentieth floor, but she suddenly wished she was even higher, that she could open the window, feel the fresh air.

  Another memory flash. This one from just before she and Nick were married. They had all been in Adelaide, Nick and his parents staying with Celia and her husband in their big house in North Adelaide, Angela and her parents, newly arrived from London, in a small, friendly hotel not far from there. There had been gatherings every night with Gillespie cousins, old schoolfriends, many neighbours. A Gillespie wedding was a big deal, Angela had discovered.

  Two nights before the big day, Nick had rung her hotel room. She’d already been in bed. ‘See you downstairs in ten minutes,’ he said. He’d hung up before she had a chance to ask more.

  She’d dressed again and gone downstairs just as he pulled up at the kerb. ‘Where are we going?’ she’d asked. ‘Wait and see,’ he’d said.

  He’d driven her across the city centre, through the suburbs, up into the foothills, then up even higher. Twenty minutes later, they were pulling into a car park high above the city. There were cars all around them, most of them with couples inside. Kissing couples. It was a lookout spot. The bright lights of the city formed a carpet of colour below them, right out to the sea on the horizon. It was beautiful.

  She felt like a teenager who’d sneaked out behind her parents’ back, she told him.

  ‘That was the idea,’ he said. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you for days. I missed you.’

  They kissed. A little more than kissed. She’d missed him so much too. It was wonderful having her parents there, exciting to be caught up in the wedding preparations, but she was longing for it to be just the two of them again. On their honeymoon first. They were going on a driving holiday, all the way along the coast to Sydney, taking their time, stopping when they felt like it. After that, it would be back to Errigal, to start their new life together.

  She told him how much she loved him. How happy she was to be marrying
him.

  ‘Not as happy as I am,’ he said.

  He’d kissed her again. He’d promised that he would always love her, always look after her. No matter what.

  At her hotel window, Angela had to blink away sudden tears. She must have cried more in the past weeks than she had in months. An urgent longing to talk to Nick took hold of her. She wanted to be close to him. To take him in her arms, kiss him, remind him of all they had been through together. Reassure him that they could get through this too. Keep talking to him, keep telling him how much she loved him until she broke through that wall they had built between them.

  She went as far as picking up the phone and starting to dial their number. But then she hung up. It was impossible to have a private conversation in their kitchen. She couldn’t ring him on his mobile, either. But it suddenly seemed urgent to tell him how she felt. Tell him she still loved him.

  She could email him. Of course. She could go downstairs to the business centre right now and write to him. And if he wasn’t in the office tonight, he would read it in the morning.

  She dressed hurriedly, pulling on her shoes, picking up her handbag. In the lift on the way down, she realised something else. Even two days away from Errigal had helped her. She hadn’t had a headache since the one in the specialist’s waiting room. She hadn’t had to once conjure up Will or Lexie.

  Perhaps getting away from there would help Nick just as much. Even for a day or two.

  As she stepped out into the foyer, she decided. She wasn’t only going to tell him that she loved him, that she had never stopped loving him. She was going to ask him to drive down to Adelaide as soon as he could tomorrow. Even to leave tonight if he got her message in time. Drive down and join her here in this beautiful hotel. Just the two of them. For one night. Two nights. More, if necessary. For however long it took for them to start talking to each other again. The way they used to.

  The business centre was closed. Angela went over to the receptionist. The woman was very apologetic, but they were doing maintenance work on the computers. There’d been a network crash. But they would be up and running again in an hour, if Angela didn’t mind waiting. If it was urgent, if she just needed to check her email, she was of course welcome to use the reception computer.