Stone Castles

by Trish Morey

  ‘Because you’ve been carrying around fifteen years of guilt about what happened that night.’

  ‘Thank you Dr Freud. If I need a shrink I’ll go see one. A qualified one.’

  ‘But yours is the worst kind of guilt. Because you’ve spent the last fifteen years thinking you should have been in that car with them.’

  She blinked up at him. ‘Like I said. If I need a shrink –’

  ‘That’s why you won’t let yourself be happy. You don’t believe you deserve to be happy. I didn’t realise it until Sally was talking today. She’s had guilt eating away at her for more than thirty years. You want to talk about betrayal – look at what she’s been carrying around. You heard what she said – you reap what you sow – like she actually believes she doesn’t deserve to be happy. And you’re just the same. You’ve buried your heart in a . . . in a stone castle. And if anyone dares to get close, you send down the arrows and spears or retreat inside and hide. It’s all because you think you should be dead and buried with the rest of your family, because you would have been if you hadn’t snuck off to be with me that night instead.’

  ‘Hey, I lied to them! I told them I was too sick to go to that Christmas party! But I should have been with them and I would have been, if I hadn’t been with you.’

  ‘But you were with me and you survived! But the way you choose to live, you might as well be lying under that slab. Do you think your parents – your brother – would have wanted that for you? Or would they want you to be happy and to make the most of your life, and honour their lives by you living yours to the full? But no. You choose to lock yourself away in some numb, unemotional shadow-land half a world away from the people who love you, where nobody can touch you, where you tell yourself you can’t make love, you have sex. Where you can’t even allow yourself a boyfriend but have to engage some kind of fuck buddy –’

  Crack! Her palm connected with his cheek, leaving her hand stinging with the impact and a violent slash of red across his face.

  He put one hand to his cheek, rubbing the place where her hand had left its mark. ‘Too close to the truth for comfort?’

  ‘How dare you?’ She was rigid with fury. ‘You know nothing about me or my life.’

  ‘I know you were happy in my arms. I know we weren’t just having sex these last two nights. We were making love. What does that tell you right there, Pip?’

  ‘What? Are you saying I love you? That you love me? You must be mad!’

  He gave an ironic laugh. ‘Yeah, I think you’re right. A man would have to be mad to love you. But now it’s your turn for a little self-discovery. Go back to New York City, Pip. Go back, knowing you’ve sorted out half your life and you know who your father was. Go find that shrink and sort out the rest.’

  ‘Oh, I’m going, all right. I’m going back to my life and my job and I’m going to get that promotion and it will be a cold day in hell before I see you again.’

  ‘Works for me. One less opportunity for you to walk out again. Knew there had to be an upside. Have a nice life.’

  And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him so hard the windows rattled for a good twenty seconds.

  *

  The spa was deep and hot and filled with bubbles and Pip lay there with her head on a rolled up towel, willing herself to relax. But the water jets were no match for the churning in her mind. Who the hell did Luke think he was to be criticising her? Making out that she had some kind of problem.

  If she had a problem, it was him.

  Her life was fine just the way it was.

  She had a great job that with a little bit of luck was about to get one whole lot better.

  She had a great flatmate and an apartment only a street back from Central Park.

  And there was Chad.

  For a moment she tried to think about him fondly. Tried to tell herself that she’d missed him and was looking forward to seeing him again.

  Tried to, and failed miserably.

  Which was a shame, because he was a nice guy, when he wasn’t pulling stunts with hire cars. Good-looking. Great job. Maybe not as broad across the chest as Luke – and maybe not as well-equipped elsewhere come to think – but greyhound trim and not a callus in sight.

  Once she was home in New York, she figured, as she hauled herself out of the slippery water, she’d appreciate that a whole lot more. She’d appreciate Chad a whole lot more.

  Things would soon get back to normal once she was home.

  She’d get her hair straightened and under control and her life under control.

  She could hardly wait.

  Chapter Thirty

  Pip beat the sun up the next morning. She was already packing the Audi by six when the grey of pre-dawn peeled back to soft pastel pinks and the sun rose in a blaze of glory and turned the sky blue. It would be hotter than any day so far, but for now it was blissfully cool. Mad to think she’d need a thick coat by the time she got to New York.

  Tracey padded out in her dressing gown and ugg boots, with baby Chloe in her arms. ‘Someone wants to say goodbye to aunty Pip,’ Tracey said. Pip took the smiling bundle and gave her a hug, kissing her head and breathing in her sweet baby smell, before wrapping an arm around her friend – her sister.

  ‘Thank you. For everything,’ she said, as Chloe gurgled happily at the group hug. ‘I am going to miss you guys so much. Say goodbye to my nephews and to Craig, okay?’

  Tracey sniffed and nodded. ‘When will we see you again?’ Her voice broke, and Pip saw the moisture in her eyes and had to bite back on the sting of tears. God, she hated goodbyes.

  ‘Oh, Trace. I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe next time you should come for Christmas. It’s such a shame you couldn’t have stayed longer.’

  She nodded, though she knew Christmas time was always going to be a reason to stay away. ‘I know. This one was a bit rushed. I’m sorry.’ She gave them both what she thought was a final hug, planted a raspberry on Chloe’s cheek and earned herself a gummy smile. ‘God, I love this girl.’

  ‘Pip, are you okay?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you fight with Luke? Did he ask you to stay?’

  She looked up at the cloudless sky, and towards the brand new sun making its presence felt with its promise of heat. She’d spent the night tossing and turning, playing over Luke’s words, trying to make sense of them, finding none.

  She wasn’t running away.

  She had a good life in New York.

  She was happy.

  Really, she was.

  ‘We had words, yeah.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him,’ Tracey said. ‘He’s a good man. And underneath all the pain he’s endured, I know he still feels something for you.’

  She licked her lips. ‘Well, he’s sure got a funny way of showing it.’

  ‘And you feel nothing for him?’

  ‘It was a mistake to rehash the past.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I really have to get going, Trace. I want to stop by the cemetery along the way, visit the folks and Gran one more time.’

  Tracey smiled. ‘Of course you do. I’m going to miss you, Sis.’

  ‘Oh god, don’t do that to me,’ she said, wiping tears away but still with a smile. ‘I have to drive.’

  And Tracey laughed. ‘Okay, no more words, you go. Let us know when you’re back safe and sound in New York.’

  ‘You bet,’ she said, with one final hug for them both. ‘I will.’

  The Moonta cemetery was deserted at this time of the morning, as one would expect, as Pip walked past the old bell towards the graves of her family. Her Gran’s grave was now a mound of earth, covered with flower arrangements that were drying, but still beautiful. The stonesmiths had been left their instructions. By the time she returned, whenever that was, she expected the earth would be settled again, and resurfaced.
r />   But for now she took out the tiny shards of pottery she’d collected from the stone mounds the day she’d gone out there with Luke. She’d been intending to put them in the casket, together with Gran’s favourite book, Not Only in Stone, but the fragments were so cold and hard that she’d changed her mind.

  The shards of pottery she now lay across the base of the headstone.

  The book was packed in her hand luggage. It was going home with her.

  She said a final farewell and headed to her family’s plot. She stood there as long as she could, just breathing in the dry air and reflecting on the people she’d grown up with.

  Her mum, Deirdre, who’d made a mistake and somehow still ended up with a good man. They’d had nowhere near enough years, but it had been a good life, until that night.

  Her brother, Trent, who’d been denied the opportunity to spread his wings and become a man.

  And Gerald. The man who’d been her father since before she could remember and longer. Who’d rescued her mum and loved Pip as if she’d been his own.

  ‘Thank you, Dad. You were the best dad ever.’

  And then, because there was a plane she had to catch to make her international connection in Sydney, she turned her back and headed back to the car park.

  But it wasn’t just that. It was Luke’s cold hard words spinning through her consciousness.

  You might as well be under that slab with them.

  No. He was wrong. She had a good life – in New York City, of all places. Life didn’t get much better than that.

  The town of Paskeville caught her attention for a moment as she passed through. She looked across the park towards the old church, now a gallery-cafe, thinking, that was where it all began. She tried to think of her mum and Sally as young girls vying for the same young man’s attention, a man who would wrong them both.

  And then it was on to Kulpura with its turn-off to Melton, and another pang in the chest thinking about the road crash markers on the side of the road and the house that was no longer there, and as she drove down the Hummocks on the road to Port Wakefield, it was like her past was being put back into place, laid to rest in the pages of yesterday.

  She breathed out one long grateful sigh.

  It was going to be okay.

  The traffic grew heavy as she neared the city, and for a while she fretted that she might not get to the airport in time to return her car and drop her luggage.

  With a hammering heart and sick feeling in her gut, she made it.

  She’d barely cleared security and grabbed a couple of gifts for Carmen when the announcement came that her flight was boarding.

  And that was the beauty of business class, she thought, as she hit the fast lane and sank thankfully into her seat.

  Soon she’d be gone.

  Soon she’d be back where her life was. Where she belonged.

  And just as soon that uneasy feeling in her gut – that roiling feeling of things not being right – would settle down and be banished forever.

  She feigned interest in a magazine until she felt the plane push back from the terminal. And then she watched from her windows as it taxied out to the runway. There were those hills again, and Mount Lofty to her right, as they waited on the tarmac for the final clearance.

  The engines whined and the plane started moving down the runway, taking her on this first leg back towards New York. Taking her home.

  Yes, she decided. New York was home.

  The plane picked up speed, the front wheel lifted off and she watched the bumpy line of the Adelaide Hills racing by until they fell away and were left far below.

  And Pip sat back in her seat and closed her eyes and felt her battered heart ache in her chest, and knew that soon, it would be okay again.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  PS: Tell Callan it’s snowing! she added to the text she sent Tracey to let her know she was safely home. Snow tickled her nose and stuck to her eyelashes as she dived into a cab for the ride from JFK Airport. And as they headed along the Long Island Expressway towards the Midtown Tunnel, Pip caught her breath at the first view of the skyline of Manhattan, all lit up and shining bright through the dusting of snow.

  The view never failed to move her. She remembered arriving that first time, coming over the slight rise and seeing the city all laid out before her, and the sight had brought tears of wonder to her eyes, because she’d known that she’d arrived, this girl from a tiny dot of a town on the other side of the globe.

  This day it almost brought tears of relief. But she was done with tears. She’d shed a lifetime of tears back in Australia and there would be no more. So she just smiled and drank in the view before they entered the tunnel under the East River.

  The cab battled its way along the congested streets towards her apartment on the Upper East Side and Pip was excited to be back amongst the buildings and buzz and pace of the Big Apple.

  Harry, her doorman, welcomed her home and she smiled. She was here, in New York City, and she belonged.

  Of course she was happy. Who wouldn’t be?

  So much for Mr Would-Be-Psychoanalyst.

  Wouldn’t let herself be happy, what rot.

  Don’t give up the day job, Luke.

  Carmen threw open the door and pulled her into a hug. ‘I have so missed you! Oh my god, you are so tan!’ she said, and Pip laughed because her Californian roommate was wearing a beanie and mittens and leg warmers, and the mercury had just reached thirty-six degrees in Adelaide according to the world weather report.

  ‘You would so love Australia,’ she said, and then checked herself because she loved it right here and wasn’t about to talk anyone into leaving.

  She pulled out her gifts of Haigh’s chocolates and a trio pack of Clare Valley wines and Carmen squealed – but not half as much as when she gave her the coaster that Adam had written his number on. She grabbed her phone and texted straight away.

  Pip blinked. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Just letting him know that you’re home safely.’ And then she grinned. ‘Just being neighbourly.’ With that, Carmen donned a down coat, heavy boots and a thick scarf and went out for Chinese takeout from the little restaurant across the street while Pip unpacked.

  By the time Carmen returned, she was done and they opened a bottle of the riesling and sat on the sofa and ate egg foo yung and grilled shrimp with chopsticks. ‘I swear this is my last takeout,’ Pip said. ‘After what I ate this last week, it’s a wonder they could fit me on the plane.’

  ‘You look great,’ Carmen said. ‘Every other New Yorker has pasty skin, but you glow. I love the way your hair is flipping out like that.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Pip said, on a sigh, putting down her empty container. ‘Rikki’s fixing that for me tomorrow.’

  ‘So, tell me everything.’

  Pip pulled out her phone and let her roommate flick through the photos while Carmen bombarded her with questions about the funeral. About the christening. About Adam.

  She clucked over the photos of Chloe. ‘Who’s this?’ she said, holding up her phone.

  ‘Ah, that’s Tracey. She’s a friend – and my half-sister too, as it turns out.’

  Carmen looked up. ‘I didn’t know you had a sister.’

  ‘Neither did I.’ And then Pip told her about the note and the church and a secret that had been hidden for more than three decades.’

  ‘That’s awesome,’ Carmen said, swiping through the photos. ‘To find a sister you never knew you had, and she’s one of your oldest friends. Wow. you must be so glad you went.’

  Pip gave that some thought. There had been some worthwhile moments, sure. Seeing her gran and saying her goodbyes. Catching up with Tracey and Fi and their families and learning that she and Tracey were half-sisters.

  Luke.

  No. Not Luke. Luke had been a mistake from start to f
inish.

  ‘It had its moments.’

  ‘Ooh, hello handsome Adam,’ said Carmen, finding the shot of Adam with Pip and smiling down on it. ‘And you say it was warm over there.’

  ‘It’s summer right now. But they do have winters too, so don’t go thinking it’s some kind of Shangri-la. It’s farming country with small towns and about as far as you can get from this place.’

  ‘Do they have snow?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sounding better and better. Hey, who’s this?’

  ‘Show me.’ She looked. Peered closer. And felt ill. She’d snapped the picture of Tracey holding Chloe in her gorgeous christening gown and hadn’t realised she’d captured one half of the barbecue. The half behind which Luke was standing. ‘That’s um,’ she said, her mouth dry, ‘Tracey again with Chloe at the christening.’

  ‘No, not them. The guy behind them. The cute one in the grey suit who’s looking at you. Is that Chloe’s dad?’

  And Pip’s stomach roiled. He was staring at her. Right at her, his mouth a straight line, his brow knitted and his eyes – his eyes were empty.

  Oh, Luke.

  ‘No. That’s Luke. He’s . . . Chloe’s godfather.’

  ‘Wow. What do they put in the water over there? How did you manage to make it out alive? I mean, it’s not as if he’s as good-looking as Adam, but he’s not bad.’

  Pip blinked. ‘You don’t think?’

  ‘No. I like my men tall, dark and dangerous. And you said Adam was a policeman – with a uniform and everything.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Pip, more than happy to change the subject, ‘and he’s probably got a really big truncheon.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Carmen said, on a wistful sigh. ‘Just the way I like them.’

  Carmen’s phone beeped. Beeped again. And again. ‘Ooh,’ she said, swiping it up eagerly, checking the messages, her smile stretching wide across her face, her eyes bright.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Adam.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘He texted me on his break while I was getting the takeout. Said he’d get back to me at lunch. I guess it’s lunchtime over there.’