Stone Castles

by Trish Morey

  Well, she didn’t really believe it either.

  But she had to believe something.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘So who’s minding the shop?’ Tracey asked.

  Pip, Tracey and Fi were reading the menu at a table on the verandah outside the Moonta Hotel. Baby Chloe was fast asleep in her pram alongside, still recovering from the big day before.

  ‘Amber.’ Fi was still looking a bit seedy, but nowhere near as grey as she’d been the day before, something she swore was down to the discovery of ginger tea. ‘She’s the girl you met when you bought that bunch of flowers the other day. That’s something else I have to sort out too . . .’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, she’s a nice girl, but a bit slow in the uptake department, if you know what I mean. I don’t mind leaving her for short periods, but . . . I just don’t know what’s going to happen there.’ She shook her head as she looked up from her menu. ‘Anyway, what are you guys having?’

  ‘Fish and chips,’ said Tracey, nodding.

  Pip put her menu down. ‘Salt and pepper squid for me.’

  ‘I’m having the steak.’

  ‘I don’t know why you bother looking at the menu,’ said Trace, with a smile.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ Fi said. ‘I’m craving red meat.’

  ‘Gotta feed your inner vampire,’ said Pip. She went inside to order, insisting it was her treat, and came back laden with plates and cutlery and bread rolls. And then did another run for some sparkling water.

  ‘Okay,’ said Fi, helping herself to a roll, ‘so what did I miss yesterday? I hear you and Luke patched things up.’

  Pip scowled at Tracey. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, Trace said you’d gone off with him. I figured something major must have happened for you to get in the same car.’

  Pip scoffed. ‘You must be kidding. I didn’t “go off” with him. He gave me a lift, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ said Tracey, buttering her own roll. ‘There’s heaps more.’

  ‘Hey, whose side are you on?’

  Tracey leaned towards Fi. ‘Luke took Pip out to his place.’

  ‘Tracey!’

  ‘What?’ she said innocently.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Well, if you’re not going to tell her, I will.’

  ‘All right.’ Pip sighed. ‘It’s all perfectly innocent. Luke’s been storing some of the furniture from the old place in his shed and he wanted to find out what I wanted to do with it. So I took a look and then he dropped me back at the farm. End of story.’

  Fi looked from one friend to the other. ‘That’s it?’

  Pip shrugged. She wasn’t going to get into the emotion of learning her old place had been bulldozed and everything that had come after. ‘That’s it.’

  Across the table Fi sighed. ‘Oh, well, that’s a shame.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘Because if you two got back together then you’d have to come home from New York and we’d get to see you more often.’

  Pip smiled. ‘That’s really sweet of you, Fi, but that’s not going to happen. There’s way too much water under the fridge.’

  ‘Luke kept your fridge?’ asked a grinning Fi and Pip laughed.

  ‘Besides,’ said Tracey, ‘she still hasn’t forgiven him yet.’

  ‘Really? That’s a bit rough,’ Fi said, munching on her bread. ‘It was such a long time ago, and besides, it was hardly his fault.’

  ‘Hey, you guys, I just paid for your lunch,’ she said, only half joking, ‘The least you could do is be a bit more supportive.’

  ‘We do support you,’ Fi said.

  ‘We love you,’ Tracey added, ‘It’s just, well, Luke did kind of get the rough end of the stick.’

  Pip almost choked on a piece of bread roll. ‘What?’

  ‘Look, it’s understandable. You were eighteen and you’d just lost your family and your gran was going downhill fast. You were hurting. You were looking for answers. Of course you were going to lash out. It just happened to be Luke who copped it. But he’s a good man, however you think he might have wronged you in the past.’

  She sniffed. Any minute now they’d be trying to make her feel sorry for the man. Why couldn’t they see? ‘Luke got everything he had coming to him. If he hadn’t kept his damned secret to himself, I might have had a chance to find out who my real father was – I might have had a chance to ask. Have you guys got any idea what it’s like to turn up for medical appointments and be questioned about the medical history of my family, and I can’t answer half the questions because I don’t even know who my biological father was? And that’s only a fraction of it. Because this is about me. It’s about who I am. How can I know who I really am without knowing something so fundamental?’ She held up her hands, appealing to her friends to understand. ‘Surely I have a right to know who my biological father was. If Luke had filled me in, I might have had a chance to by now.’

  ‘Hey Pip,’ said Fi, ‘I know it’s been tough, but isn’t it time you stopped blaming Luke? So he overheard someone talking and he didn’t tell you. So what? How was he supposed to know it might be true? I sure never heard a whisper. Not until you told me afterwards.’

  Tracey nodded. ‘Nor me. And our mums were so close. If there was some shady secret around, surely I would have heard something?’

  Pip searched for words that would give her traction, in an argument that was rapidly turning to loose sand. ‘If he’d only told me . . .’

  Tracey threw her hands up into the air. ‘Oh come on, Pip, and what would you have done if he had? How could it have fixed things?’

  Chloe stirred then, snuffling and whinging, and Tracey reached over and took the pram’s handle, rocking it gently. ‘You know, Pip,’ she said, more measuredly this time, ‘I’m sure it’s rough, not knowing, always having that question going unanswered in your mind, but you’re not the only one with father issues. Sometimes it’s not all that great knowing who your father was – especially when you know he was a lying, cheating scumbag. I was just a baby and my fabulous biological father was dropping his pants and spreading his biology far and wide for any passing bit of skirt. I’m so proud that my mum had enough guts to get rid of him, even if it meant she’d be a single mum and I’d grow up without a dad. At least you had Gerald when you were a kid. Even if he wasn’t your biological father, he loved you, and your mother and brother.’

  Ouch!

  Tracey’s words left her stunned and reeling, but hadn’t she deserved every bit of it? She blinked and excused herself and headed for the bathroom, where she sat in a stall and let the words of the last ten minutes wash over her. And where she realised that it was about her, all right. And only about her.

  Tracey had been so right. She was lucky enough to have a great dad in Gerald. He was the best. A memory flashed in her mind of them all going to the Kadina Show, and how he’d picked her up over his head and she’d sat on his broad shoulders as he strode past the stalls and rides, laughing with the thrill of being so high off the ground, but feeling safe because she knew he would never let her fall.

  He’d never let her fall.

  Had she ever told him how much she’d loved him?

  Did he know?

  And now she was so focused on the father who had never been part of her life that she was as good as dishonouring the memory of the man who had taken that role and had been that person.

  She put her shaking head in her hands and then lifted it on a sigh. It was time she was getting back. She washed her hands and dried them on paper towel, all the while looking at her reflection and at her troubled eyes. She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy coming back, but she’d never for a moment realised how hard it would be.

  Tracey and Fi looked relieved when she finally reappeared and sat down.

 
‘Hey,’ said Tracey, putting a hand to her arm. ‘I’m sorry, that was bitchy.’

  Pip held up a hand. ‘No, I deserved that. And you’re absolutely right. You must be so sick of me banging on about everything. You’ll be so happy when I go back to New York.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Fi.

  ‘Me neither.’

  Pip smiled, feeling humbled by friends who’d known her forever, known her warts and all, and yet were still her friends. ‘You guys are the best. I promise, no more whining about secrets and missing fathers. It’s time I accepted how things are and put it behind me.’ She took a deep breath, determined to be brighter company. ‘So that’s that, then. How about we change the subject?’ And then their meals arrived. ‘Brilliant, saved by the squid!’

  Fi laughed. ‘Oh, it is so good to have you back in town. We are going to miss you.’

  Tracey’s fish and chips landed on the table next, looking golden and gorgeous and giving Pip serious food envy.

  Fi’s plate went down last, the steak almost as big as the plate, a pile of chips balanced precariously alongside. Fi unwrapped her steak knife and fork and grinned down at the plate like she’d just won the jackpot.

  Pip looked at her size ten friend and said, ‘There is no way you are going to eat all that.’

  ‘Ha,’ said Fi, grinning, already slicing the first chunk of steak. ‘Watch me. So, tell me about this furniture.’

  So they chatted and ate and Pip told her about the sewing machine and the writing bureau and the dresser that had taken her back to their old kitchen, and showed her the photos, making sure nobody saw the one with Luke’s reflection. Her squid was divine, the plump white spiced coils of squid deliciously melt-in-the-mouth tender, the salad fresh and crisp and dressed with a balsamic dressing, and the chips . . .

  Oh boy, the chips. She intended trying just one. One wouldn’t kill her. But that one was so packed with crunchy golden sinfulness that before she knew it her plate was empty and she was thinking about how many more spin and body pump classes she’d need to work this little lot off.

  But she dismissed the calculation in the next thought.

  Why worry about it now?

  The spin and body pump classes were half a world away.

  And it was so nice for a change to simply sit and enjoy a meal with friends she hardly ever saw. A pang of remorse hit deep. She was going to miss them more than ever when she left this time.

  Across the table, Fi battled valiantly with the steak and looked like she was winning. ‘So,’ she said, with a forkful of red meat primed and ready just centimetres from her mouth, ‘when do you pick up the furniture?’

  Pip looked at Tracey and shook her head. ‘We haven’t worked that out yet.’

  ‘I could send Craig to collect them if being around Luke is going to upset you,’ Tracey said. ‘You looked a bit shattered when you got back to the farm yesterday.’

  ‘I was,’ Pip said, because being with Luke had awakened all kinds of emotions that she’d thought long buried and probably should remain long buried. But at the same time, she felt strangely disappointed at the thought of not seeing Luke again. ‘Although I really should go through the drawers and clean out all Gran’s old stuff.’

  Fi put down her knife and fork and sat back in her chair with a long sigh.

  Pip laughed. ‘You finished it!’

  ‘Told you.’

  Tracey shook her head. ‘No bovine is safe when Fi is pregnant.’ She turned to Pip. ‘What kind of stuff are you talking about?’

  ‘Just old letters and papers mostly. I should go through them.’

  ‘Your gran’s papers?’ Fi asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  And Fi frowned at Tracey and then both of them frowned at her and a sizzle went down her spine right there.

  ‘You’ve never looked through them before?’

  ‘No,’ she said, her mind suddenly going a million miles an hour. ‘Because they were Gran’s. I wouldn’t look through her private papers.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time you did.’

  The cogs of Pip’s mind whirred and meshed as she remembered the papers still sitting in the bureau. Old letters. Old documents. Anything could be in the old bureau. And a coiling buzz of excitement built in her stomach.

  Could it be possible? Could there be some hint about her biological father hidden away amongst them all?

  And did she really want to know?

  Maybe Tracey was right. Maybe it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

  But the possibility there might be an answer tucked away in Gran’s old things was too ripe to resist.

  ‘Oh god, didn’t I just say I was going to put this behind me?’

  ‘You have to look,’ said Fi. ‘If there’s a chance.’

  Tracey nodded. ‘It’s important to you. You’ve been carrying this around a long time. If there’s an answer somewhere in those papers . . .’

  She nodded.

  Fifteen years ago she’d left in a white-hot rage. She hadn’t bothered to look for anything then because she’d already affixed blame to the person she held responsible.

  Luke.

  She’d blamed him all along for her not knowing.

  She’d been his judge, jury and executioner.

  And she’d never thought to look . . .

  She gazed at the faces of her friends, at their eyes filled with compassion and concern. ‘I better go look then.’ And it would have to be soon because she left Friday and Gran’s funeral was Wednesday. Which left tomorrow and Thursday – and Thursday was probably leaving it too late. She looked over at Tracey. ‘How about tomorrow? Could you come with me?’

  And Tracey shook her head. ‘No can do. Tomorrow is Chloe’s pre-natal class Christmas party and I’m taking the cake.’

  Fi just held up her hands without being asked. ‘I really have to spend some time in the shop. Someone has to make up for a bit of lost time. But if Luke’s still working on the harvest it shouldn’t be a problem. He won’t even be there during the day. You’ll have the place to yourself.’

  That made sense, she told herself. She could be in and out while he was out there, doing his thing in the paddocks.

  It could work.

  And maybe she’d find something to change that lingering question mark in her mind into a full stop. And then she really could put it all behind her and move on with her life.

  She looked at the faces of Trace and Fi, who had remained friends even though she’d left them to live half a world away with only an occasional visit. The friends she was already booked to leave when she was just getting used to being back with them. The friends who had still stayed loyal to her even if they sometimes sympathised with Luke a little too much for her liking – even if she was starting to see she might have been a little heavy-handed with him.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘I’ll text him and see if it’s okay to go out tomorrow.’

  And Tracey and Fi both raised their glasses of sparkling water to her and said, ‘Attagirl!’

  Luke frowned down at his phone. After the way they’d parted the other day, the last person he’d expected a text from was Pip. Warily he opened it and scanned its contents before texting back.

  Sure. Shed’s open. I’ll get the tarps off. Help yourself.

  He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that it was about the furniture. He settled on relieved as he turned the header for home after a long day. Because he had no place being disappointed.

  Even if her being back was playing all sorts of tricks on his mind. Like the other day, when he’d had her in his arms and his lips had been on hers and he’d almost felt like he was coming home. Which was crazy, because he was already here, and she was the one who didn’t belong.

  She’d made her home halfway around the globe in the biggest and brightest of cities, and she
was already planning on leaving again.

  But he had plenty enough to be happy about. This year’s harvest for one. The sun hadn’t burned too brightly to burn the crops and the rain had held off.

  It was a good season. A bumper crop. One more day in the paddocks and another harvest would be in.

  ‘What do you reckon, mate?’ he said, as he looked at the dog curled up on the seat alongside him. ‘What say we celebrate tomorrow night with dinner at the pub? We’ll have to sit on the verandah mind, no going inside.’

  Turbo pricked up his ears and wagged his tail, looking keen in spite of the onerous conditions.

  ‘That’s what I like about you, fella,’ he said with a grin. ‘What you see is what you get. There’s not enough of that going around these days.’

  But as he jumped down from the header he was still thinking about that kiss with Pip in the shed, and of the warmth and pleasure and the sheer wonder of it.

  And, he thought, maybe there’s not enough of that going around either.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The shed door rumbled open with a squawk of metal on metal and then there was silence and Pip and the dust motes dancing on the cracks of light.

  She stood there on the cusp of entry, armed with a box for anything worth keeping and a bag for rubbish, and a firm resolution, even if her stomach was anything but solid.

  Because forget about what she might or might not find, this was Luke’s world.

  Once upon a time, it could have been hers.

  Something twisted inside her like barbed wire pulled tight around her gut, and she gasped at both its suddenness and severity.

  It was a bit late to start thinking about what could have been.

  Too late for regrets.

  She stepped over the threshold and snapped on the lights to banish memories that flitted like shadows in the gloom, but not even the harsh fluoro lighting could banish the what-ifs. They crowded thickly around her mind, jostling for attention as she put her box and bag down next to the bureau.