Willow Tree Bend

by Kaye Dobbie

  ‘I used to go to church … well you know that. You and your sister thought it was silly for a grown woman to believe in something you couldn’t see. God was a part of my life and I miss him. I still go, and sit in a pew at the back. Not often but sometimes. It doesn’t help though, it just makes me feel worse.’

  ‘Mum, what do you mean you sit at the back?’

  ‘I don’t feel part of the congregation because I can’t take communion. And I can’t take communion because I’m not in a state of grace.’

  ‘Why aren’t you in a state of grace, Mum? You’re one of the best people in this town!’

  Lily choked on something between a laugh and a sob. ‘Because I can’t confess. I haven’t been able to confess for thirty years!’

  Hope hadn’t known what to say, but as she desperately searched around for something to make things better, Lily kept talking.

  ‘The priest isn’t supposed to repeat anything you tell him, but I don’t trust him. When all’s said and done he’s still a man.’

  Her green eyes had been swimming with tears and Hope had been close to them herself. Her mother, always so strong, so indomitable. Her mother, who until today she’d thought would live forever, was crumbling under the strain.

  She told herself she hadn’t meant for this to happen. She’d tried to steer Looking Back away from Lily, as a precaution, although in her heart she wasn’t entirely sure if it was necessary. But instead of being grateful, Lily had seen her interference as an insult and a judgement on her trustworthiness. And now … it felt to Hope as if everything had shifted.

  She rested her fingers on the top of the gate. The seniors’ units occupied a quiet side street, which was empty at the moment—she thought it was probably empty most of the time. She could hear some traffic ahead, where Golden Gully’s main drag offered shops and entertainment. She remembered Faith saying when they moved their mother in here that it was a good position, a little enclave for the elderly.

  ‘The cottage was just too much for her, but she wouldn’t admit it, not until that fall.’

  Hope remembered the fall, too. Lily had tripped over something or other and tumbled down the back stairs. Sprained her ankle and was lucky not to break it. As it was she was bruised and sore for weeks. The biggest drama had been that she hadn’t been found for a full day and night—Faith was always so busy. Hope cringed now at what she’d said, accusing Faith of neglect. Well, near enough.

  ‘Maybe you should come and walk in my shoes for a while,’ her sister had said quietly, furiously, and hung up.

  Of course Hope had rung back later and apologised. She’d been upset, not thinking, but it had enabled her to better understand how easy it was to lose perspective when you were an ocean away. Was that what she had done with Looking Back? Let her own immediate concerns take precedence over her family?

  Inside Lily’s unit, the small sitting room had been scattered with half-familiar objects from the cottage. Hope had been directed to a newish sofa, heavy with cushions, and once she was seated, her mother had taken the shabby old armchair. Pompom was lying at her feet, an eye half open in case one of them dropped crumbs. There was a low table between them, set with tea cups and a floral plate for the shortbread biscuits.

  Her mother always made shortbreads. They were for special occasions, and Hope knew her visit today was considered one—in fact, she admitted to herself that she would have been hurt if there hadn’t been any shortbreads in evidence. When her mother had proudly produced them upon her arrival, she’d boasted that she was still a good cook.

  ‘Dulcie next door forgets her own name sometimes,’ she chattered on, as they’d made their way into the sitting room. ‘But my memory is as sharp as it ever was.’

  ‘I’m sure it is, Mum.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you let those people from the television talk to me?’

  Her voice was so accusatory that Hope was taken by surprise and had to search for an answer. ‘It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. I just didn’t want you put through all of that nonsense. If I hadn’t put my foot down and said no interviews, they would have pestered you forever.’

  ‘Maybe I wouldn’t have minded being “pestered”,’ she retorted.

  ‘Oh no, you’d have hated it. Really.’

  Lily hesitated a moment, but Hope knew with a sinking heart that there was more, and she’d probably been bottling it up for this moment. Possibly for years.

  ‘What about Pete? You’re not going to tell them about him, are you?’

  Her mother’s gaze was intense and Hope stared back at her, struggling to speak. They never mentioned Pete, not even when they were alone like this. The fact that her mother had done so now, broken the unwritten law, was quite shocking.

  ‘Of course not! Mum, you know there’s no question of that, you must know? We agreed never to mention it. Have you forgotten?’

  Lily looked confused, and then she shrugged in irritation. ‘No, I haven’t forgotten!’

  Hope wondered if she should say more, but watching her mother sitting there with an injured air, she decided it was best to let it lie. She waited while Lily poured the tea, her gaze drifting to the photograph on the wall behind her. It was the cottage, taken in the evening, with the shadows long and the sun low. It was a beautiful scene and Hope remembered Faith saying something about getting the picture taken a few years ago.

  Did Lily regret leaving her home? She’d never shed tears, not that Hope knew about, but it must have been a wrench. It was the place she’d come to when she’d first married, and where she’d brought up her girls and made her life through all the shifts and changes. She must have so many memories.

  ‘Do you miss being at the cottage?’ she asked, nodding towards the photograph.

  Lily twisted around to look and when she turned back once again her eyes were bright with tears. ‘I miss your father,’ she said. ‘I know it will surprise you to hear that. Rex wasn’t a good man, or a kind one.’

  ‘He made your life a misery!’

  ‘Well … yes, I suppose he did. But he was a charmer in the early days. Got me to marry him and live in the middle of nowhere, which took some doing I can tell you. That was how I thought of Willow Tree Bend then. The Middle of Nowhere.’

  Hope laughed, causing Pompom to lift his woolly head. ‘It still is.’

  ‘I always went for the charmers. Maybe that’s something you inherited, Hope. Men who can talk the birds down out of the trees. But they’re useless when it comes to the practical things, like putting food on the table, or being there when you need them. Or being faithful.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that for me,’ Hope said, her voice stony.

  ‘How do you know it wouldn’t have been?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You were barely more than a child.’

  ‘Mum, can we not talk about this?’

  Lily sighed. ‘I miss being young,’ she said.

  ‘You’re still young,’ Hope retorted.

  Lily laughed softly, and they sipped their tea. Hope’s was far too milky, the sort of tea she’d had as a child, but she didn’t complain. She was just glad that her mother had stopped dragging up memories. Although Hope had come here to talk, she wondered now if that was a good idea. Wouldn’t all this delving into the past only make things worse? Wasn’t it better just to forget?

  The clock on the sideboard was ticking heavily, like an old man’s heart struggling to beat. It almost drowned out the voices of children playing next door. Or maybe it was a television she could hear, if Dulcie was as ancient as her mother said.

  ‘Eat a biscuit,’ Lily ordered, holding out the plate.

  It would be fine, Hope told herself. She was worrying about nothing. Her mother had done okay so far and she wasn’t going to say anything now. Why would she? Soon the show’s production team would be finished and move on to their next victim.

  She chose a shortbread—one of the browner ones, she had always preferred them on the burnt side—and bit int
o it.

  Salty. Overwhelmingly. She tried to hide her dismay, but Lily was watching her face for her reaction and saw immediately that there was something wrong.

  ‘What, what?’ she cried.

  ‘Nothing, it’s nothing, Mum …’

  But by now Lily had bitten into her own biscuit. Her face fell and she spat the crumbs into her hand. ‘I don’t understand it,’ she whispered, staring at the plate. ‘I’ve made this recipe hundreds of times. Thousands. That’s never happened before.’

  ‘Mum …’ To Hope the cause was obvious: her mother had mistaken salt for sugar. And yet Lily couldn’t seem to process it at all. She just kept saying she didn’t understand it and staring down at the biscuits and then up at her daughter. That she was completely confused about what she had done, in denial even, was concerning. And when Hope thought of the secrets her mother was the keeper of … Her anxiety returned full force.

  It took a little while to calm Lily down, and after they’d disposed of the salty shortbreads, Hope had helped her to open a packet of shop-bought biscuits.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said more than once. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you.’

  ‘I’ve been so worried ever since I knew you were coming home.’

  ‘Mum, I didn’t want you to worry. That’s why I told them you weren’t coming to the cottage yesterday.’

  Lily’s green eyes looked childlike in her wrinkled face. Her voice barely more than a terrified whisper, she said, ‘Hope, what if they find out?’

  She reached for Lily’s hands. ‘Don’t. You know we don’t talk about that. Ever. If we don’t talk about it then they won’t find out, how can they? No one can find out.’

  Her mother blinked at her, her emotions leaping from fear to belief and back again. ‘I know that’s true, but sometimes the words swell up inside me and I’m frightened.’

  ‘Frightened of what?’ Hope found she was whispering too.

  ‘Frightened they’ll slip out.’

  After that she began to talk about church and confession, and her sense of no longer being able to participate in the service the way she once had. About her sense of isolation. Which, as Hope explained to her, was silly when she had her family and friends all around her. She wasn’t alone, was she? She just had to pick up the phone.

  Now, standing on the path, the sun was so hot that a trickle of sweat rolled down Hope’s back. She opened the gate and went through, carefully latching it behind her—one wouldn’t want Pompom to escape.

  She had asked her mother to the dinner tonight, but that was before she had her outburst. Now she couldn’t help wondering if it was such a good idea. What if, despite all her promises, Lily let something slip? Could Hope spend the entire evening keeping an eye on her mother, as well as playing the hostess? And how selfish did that make her, even thinking such a thing?

  She narrowed her eyes against the glare and slipped on her sunglasses. Had the sun been this hot when she was a child? It had been a hot day when she and Pete rode in the black-and-chrome car, but she’d been young and in love, and the heat hadn’t bothered her then. In fact, she’d revelled in it. That and the man’s eyes, watching her.

  Afterwards, she’d wondered if she could have prevented what had happened. If she had told him she didn’t like being gawped at … Asked him to stop the car and let them out. But the uncomfortable truth was that she’d enjoyed it. The way he’d stared at her in the rear-view mirror, as she’d laughed and flirted with Pete. She’d felt strangely excited by the man’s voyeurism. It was excusable in one so young, and she’d always had a tendency to perform for an audience, but even so …

  There were times, especially now, when she asked herself whether it had all been her fault.

  She was walking along the footpath, hardly noticing where she was going because her head was so full of the past. When she reached the corner she turned into the main street, relieved to find there was a lunchtime crowd here, talking and going about their business. A group of schoolchildren filed past in their uniforms, faces red from the heat, while the teacher tried to keep them in order.

  The smells of fried food and melting tar made her eyes water and she quickened her pace. She was supposed to be heading to the Cantani Desserts shop—her instructions from Sam—and they would either give her a lift or call her niece to come and collect her. But first she wanted to go to the supermarket on the edge of town, to collect the food she needed for tonight’s barbecue. She was ticking the items off on her mental list when the voice called out to her.

  ‘Hope! I thought you said you were leaving town?’

  Hope stopped. She didn’t want to turn around and she wondered if she could pretend she hadn’t heard and break into a fast trot. But Lena was just the sort of person likely to chase after her and make a scene. If only Prue was here to run interference!

  Only she wasn’t, so there was nothing for it but to plaster a brave smile on her face and turn around.

  Lena was standing a few paces away, watching her warily, her smile even less genuine than Hope’s. She had a little girl by her side with her hair in a scrunchy, and the child was staring up at her wide-eyed. A grandchild, or had Lena started her family late?

  ‘Lena!’ she said, trying to inject warmth and pleasure into her voice, and walked over to give her a couple of air kisses. Lena felt hot and sweaty, but then so did she. ‘There was a change of plans. I stayed the night with my niece.’ And then, not putting it past the other woman to invite herself over, ‘But I’m leaving soon.’

  Oh God, that had sounded so obvious! She kept the smile on her face, but she knew she looked strained and perhaps even afraid.

  Lena shot her a glance and paused, as if making up her mind about something, before she went on with a rush. ‘I wanted to tell you. That girl who was with you yesterday? With the pink hair?’

  ‘Prue?’

  ‘Yeah, that was her. Prue. She came back after you left. She came back and wanted to talk to me.’

  Instantly Hope felt sick. She stared back at Lena, seeing the guilt mixed with secret pleasure in the other woman’s expression. She remembered how Lena liked to feel important, and she must be feeling pretty damned important right now.

  ‘What did you tell her?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady and failing.

  Lena shrugged. ‘I said we were friends, that’s all.’

  ‘You didn’t say anything about Pete Cantani?’

  His name was there between them, heavy with portent.

  Lena smiled, and Hope knew she was perfectly aware of how rattled she was. ‘She did say something about him, but she already seemed to know most of it. Did you tell her? I thought you must have.’

  Hope could just imagine it. Prue would have played Lena like a professional, fooling her into believing she knew the story, and then getting Lena to tell it to her.

  Oh God, oh God.

  She mustn’t panic. What did Prue know after all? Just that she and Pete were girlfriend and boyfriend. She might drag it up, cobble together some maudlin story to fit in with the whole, but apart from embarrassing Hope and her family, it wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. They couldn’t possibly know everything. Could they? Unless Prue had spoken to Lily, too? Why hadn’t she asked her mother what she’d been chatting about with Prue at the cottage while Joe had insisted on that private conversation?

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lena asked. ‘Hope? I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to. That Prue, she just kept on and on. Anyway, it’s been nice to see you. Say goodbye to Hope, sweetie.’

  The little girl waved shyly.

  Hope clenched her hands by her sides, just in case she slapped someone. Somehow she managed to smile as if she meant it, said goodbye, and turned around. She didn’t have a clue where she was going, not until she noticed the supermarket in the distance.

  Tonight’s barbecue.

  Maybe she could call it off? Catch the next flight out
of here? But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. They’d sue her if she broke the contract, or else they’d get the scent of a better story than they’d realised they had. No, she had to face it out and pretend everything was fine. Surely to God she could do that? She’d inhabited plenty of roles in her life, what was so difficult about this one?

  The sun was so hot and she’d lost her hat. She put a hand to her lips and tasted blood. She was trembling.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Her voice sounded young and frightened, and her throat hurt. ‘Pete?’

  And Pete, tall and straight, with his eyes as blue as the sky. ‘It’ll be all right, Hope.’ His arms warm and strong as she buried her face into his bare chest. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything is all right.’

  Somehow they had managed to get through the nightmare, burying it deep, until it was as if it had never happened.

  ‘Don’t worry, Hope.’ Pete was long gone, but his voice still echoed inside her head.

  Well, she was worrying now.

  FAITH

  September 1969, St Kilda

  Slowly Kitty regained her usual cockiness. Lenny came back, not even slightly chastened, and resumed his role as doorman and seller of little white pills. Once or twice Faith had seen men in suits coming and going from Jared’s office, and he’d looked worried and less dapper than usual. One of the girls told her that they were the owners of the Angel, and he was being called upon to explain himself.

  They didn’t look like criminals, but maybe she was naive when it came to the underworld. She remembered hearing once that Al Capone hadn’t looked like a criminal either, until you got on the wrong side of him.

  Whatever Jared’s bosses thought of him, Kitty was sticking by her man. She and Jared were as close as ever, and Kitty continued to stay out all night. There’d been a couple of private parties in the Penthouse over the past weeks, and now Faith no longer needed to guess what was going on up there.

  The truth made her uncomfortable.