Lake Hill

by Margareta Osborn

  Her mind went back to that terrible day and the gut-wrenching guilt. It had taken enormous strength to walk away from her beautiful baby girl. She might have only been seventeen, but that didn’t make the bond of motherhood any looser. Every step she took away from her daughter had been a knife-blade cutting her heart away a piece at a time. In that moment, Julia knew without doubt that giving her baby away hadn’t been the easy way out. She wasn’t like her own mother, believing she had no choice. She had made a choice. The right choice. If there had been a way to keep Chloe she would have found it. She would have kept her, and she would have protected her.

  ‘Then what?’ Rick asked.

  Julia blinked and refocused on him. ‘Sylvia found her, obviously, and brought her up as her own. I took a train to Melbourne, found a place to live and a job.’

  ‘Did your husband know?’

  Julia shook her head.

  ‘Did anyone other than my mother, your parents and Sylvia know you’d had a child?’

  She shook her head again. No one.

  ‘So you just went on with your life like nothing had happened? Like you hadn’t had this … this … major event?’

  No, that wasn’t how it had happened at all. She remembered the way her breast milk had kept flowing, even though she no longer had a baby to feed; the nights of tears, and the days when she thought she’d be better off dead; the continual wondering about where her little girl was, what she was doing. The grief that intensified every year, when her baby’s birthday came around. But she couldn’t tell Rick any of that. He wouldn’t understand. No one could understand, unless they’d gone through it themselves.

  Instead, her voice thick with tears, she said, ‘I’m not making excuses for what I did. Rick, I have missed my baby every second of every day.’

  The admission came from the depths of her soul, and she could see she’d finally got through to him. His expression didn’t soften, but he stopped drumming his fingers on the table and his body slightly eased its angry rigidity.

  Outside, a pair of crimson rosellas dived smoothly from one gum tree to the other. Always together. Julia wondered whether she and Rick would ever be together again now he knew her shameful secret.

  ‘So what happened then?’ His voice was so remote.

  ‘I met Rupert. He was a senior partner at the legal firm where I worked. He’d lost his wife, Lydia. We eventually got together, and married, and then last year he died.’

  ‘And that’s the end of the story, right? Except for the part about you deciding to come here and fooling me into thinking you loved me.’ The accusations were like bullets. ‘And then she turned up, out of the blue. I bet that set your plans back?’

  ‘That’s not what happened and you know it. You make it sound like I deliberately broke down here!’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  Julia couldn’t believe they were back to this again. ‘You know I didn’t. You checked that out, remember?’

  ‘So, when were you intending to tell me I had a daughter?’ he said, yelling again now. ‘Or weren’t you planning to let on about that little fact?’

  ‘I was going to tell you! I was just trying to work out the best time!’

  ‘And just when was that going to be, Julia? In fifty years, when it’s all too fucking late?’

  He didn’t believe her. Oh God, how could she make him believe her?

  ‘I told Chloe I’d tell her who her father is on Christmas Day. But after Ernie’s revelation to Montana yesterday –’

  He spoke over her. ‘Oh yes, that’s right. You sat there and listened to Ernie spill the beans, but conveniently forgot you were keeping your own secret.’

  ‘That’s when I realised I was wrong. I should have told both of you as soon as Chloe arrived.’

  ‘And now she’s gone.’

  Julia sucked in a ragged breath. ‘Yes. And I don’t know why. Why would she leave like that when all she’s wanted to know since she arrived is who her father is?’

  ‘Why the fuck didn’t you just tell her then? Why didn’t you tell me rather than leading us both on?’

  ‘I wasn’t leading anyone on! I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t tell you because I was terrified you wouldn’t understand. And I was right – you don’t!’

  Rick’s mobile suddenly trilled and he pulled it roughly from his pocket. ‘Yep?’ He listened for a bit to a shrill female voice. ‘What do you mean it’s missing? Charlie hasn’t got it? … I don’t know where it is. It was there last night.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll call Harry. Don’t touch anything … Montana, I’m in the middle of something here. I’ll call you back.’

  He ended the call and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then, ‘Now a ute’s missing from the Grange.’

  ‘Do you think Chloe’s taken it?’ They’d have more chance of finding her if she had.

  ‘You tell me,’ he said.

  She thought hard, then shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  He sighed with exasperation. ‘I’ll ring Harry.’

  When Rick ended the call to the policeman, he was frowning even more deeply. ‘Harry’s on his way out again. He’ll be here shortly.’

  Julia’s heart leaped with hope. ‘Do you think he’s found her?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘But surely he wouldn’t come back out today if he hadn’t?’

  ‘He just said he’s coming to speak with us both.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘I said I don’t know!’

  Rick’s shout made her jump and she shrank back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and rubbed at his face. ‘It’s just all a bit much.’

  It was a vulnerable gesture and made her heart go out to him. The man had just found out he had a daughter, twenty years too late. And he thought that Julia had tricked him, and his mother had betrayed his trust, again.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Rick.’

  She poured every ounce of her regret into those four words, but he didn’t respond.

  Harry Peterson arrived at Lake Hill Cafe just after four in the afternoon. He was grim-faced as he stood in front of them.

  ‘Julia, Rick, we have a problem. There’s no easy way to say this. Chloe … well, she’s not Chloe.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Julia. Her stomach dropped.

  ‘The girl you thought was Chloe, wasn’t.’

  ‘What the fuck?’ Rick sprang to his feet, fists clenched at his sides.

  Harry put out a meaty hand. ‘Just wait, Rick. Hear me out.’ When Rick had sat down again, Harry continued: ‘I went back to the station, rang a few people. No luck. Then I put Chloe’s name into our special database to see if she’d been involved with the police at all in the past. It gives details like last known address, phone numbers, associates, licence details and so on. Turned out her name is in there, with a photo. But it doesn’t match the Chloe Murray who’s been working here. I grabbed the photo Julia gave me to double-check.’

  ‘So who is she?’ Julia asked. She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

  Harry glanced at his notebook. ‘Her real name is Lauren Woodward.’

  Julia sat back, stunned. Lauren? Her daughter’s best friend who’d supposedly died of a drug overdose.

  ‘How did you work that out?’ Rick asked.

  ‘She came up in Chloe’s file under known associates. I had a hunch, so I pulled up Lauren’s file and bingo.’ Harry almost sounded proud. ‘She’s under a community-based order for minor theft – stealing to buy drugs. I knew she’d have a caseworker somewhere, so I tracked her down. Turns out Lauren hasn’t been meeting her obligations under that order. She hasn’t been attending rehab or doing the community work required. Apparently the caseworker got hold of her here the day before yesterday –’

  ‘So she took off,’ finished Rick. ‘Knew we’d be onto her.’

  Harry nodded. ‘I’m guessing that’s the case.’

  ‘And she stole the farm ute to make her getaway?’

&nb
sp; ‘Possibly.’

  ‘What about my mother’s missing jewellery? She got that too?’

  Harry nodded again. ‘Possibly.’

  Along with the money Julia still hadn’t found, presumably, and her diamond pendant.

  ‘When will we know?’ Rick asked.

  ‘We’ve got to find her first.’

  Their voices receded to a hum in the background. Julia was numb. She’d gambled and lost everything, and all for nothing.

  No, not for nothing, she corrected herself. At least the truth was out there now. Rick knew he had a daughter – that they had a daughter. Maybe they could search for her together?

  It was a wild thought, but one that gave her a tiny pang of hope.

  Rick’s heavy brow was screwed up in concentration. ‘So, Harry, if Lauren was pretending to be Chloe, then where’s the real Chloe, our daughter?’

  Harry cleared his throat and tapped his notebook a few times with his pen. Then he stood up straight and said in a rush, ‘I’m sorry to inform you both that Chloe Murray, your real daughter, is deceased.’

  Chapter 31

  Julia could hear men’s voices coming from somewhere above, except her world was inky black. Then she was swimming. Up towards the light, gasping in shock as her eyes opened to the bright sunlit surroundings of her own cafe. Harry was leaning over her saying, ‘She’s coming around. Julia, you passed out. Are you okay?’

  She barely acknowledged the policeman, as reality hit like a truck. She’d never be okay again. Julia couldn’t think of anything but the words Harry had said. Her beautiful baby, Chloe, was dead.

  ‘Here. Let me help you up.’ Harry was dragging her off the floor and into a chair. Rick was handing her a glass of water. Rick? Oh. My. God. Rick? She frantically sought his face, his eyes, desperate to see. Sure the emotions she was feeling would be reflected right back at her. Pain. Grief. There they all were.

  Along with a wealth of anger.

  She shrank away.

  ‘Your biological daughter Chloe Murray died of an overdose of methamphetamine. She was nineteen years old.’ Harry paused and glanced across at Julia. To see if she was okay, she guessed. She nodded for him to go on, not trusting herself to speak.

  Harry cleared his throat and continued reading from his notebook. ‘Apparently she was on the gas with her boyfriend at the time, although an inquest found she had self-administered a dirty dose. Sylvia Murray had passed away by then, and Chloe and her boyfriend were sleeping rough. I’ve spoken with Sylvia Murray’s boyfriend, Derek Perue – a very nice fellow I might add – and he told me he’d finally kicked Chloe out following Sylvia’s death as she was using and wouldn’t stop. According to him, Sylvia and Chloe started having issues when the girl hit adolescence. There’s a string of petty thefts on her file from around thirteen to support this. According Mr Perue, Chloe got in with the wrong crowd, and by that I think he means the likes of Lauren Woodward.’

  Julia flinched. She never wanted to hear that girl’s name again.

  Harry’s phone rang. He got up and stepped outside to take the call. Julia could see by the way he glanced back over his shoulder that it was about them. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything now.

  Harry pocketed his phone and walked back inside. ‘We’ve just caught up with Ms Woodward. She dumped the ute in Horsham and caught a train to Melbourne. The protective services officers picked her up as she got off the train. The missing jewellery was on her person, as was a sizable sum of money and Julia’s solitaire necklace. She was interviewed and has been charged with theft at this stage. The officers in Melbourne said she’s quite the actress. She found out about you, Julia, via a letter sent to the real Chloe by Mr Perue, apparently. It took her a while to track you down, but in her words, you “practically jumped right into her hands”.’

  Rick started violently, but Harry held up a palm. ‘There’s more. She intended on breaking down your mother’s necklaces and selling off the stones. She’d also intended on taking a dog and selling that too.’

  ‘Summer,’ murmured Rick. ‘It must’ve been her who let all the dogs off. The sheep too.’

  Harry nodded. ‘She thought things might go better for her by telling us everything. Apparently she returned the dog.’

  ‘She did. To Montana.’

  ‘Must be some remorse then, although she was pretty annoyed she didn’t find out who her so-called father was. She wanted to hit him for money too.’

  Julia didn’t care about this … this … impostor. ‘Our daughter, Harry, our real daughter … do you know any more?’

  Harry peered with compassion over his glasses at her, then consulted his notebook. ‘Chloe was interred at the Springvale cemetery. Mr Perue paid for the funeral, and still seems quite distressed about her death.’

  Dead. Dead. Dead. Julia barely acknowledged Harry. She couldn’t think of anything but her beautiful baby, buried in the cold ground.

  Finally, Harry left, taking Rick with him. Julia was grateful to be alone.

  She shut the front gate and locked all the cafe doors. She took the kitchen phone off the hook, turned off her mobile and went up to her room.

  She lay in bed and cried until she was empty.

  Her daughter was gone. All she had left of her was the little gold bluebird bracelet now cupped in her hands. And even though Lauren had stolen the bracelet and pretended it was hers, it had once belonged to Chloe and she might have worn it next to her skin.

  Julia clutched the delicate chain to her cheek, its links digging into her flesh as she remembered again that terrible day when she left Chloe. Now she’d lost her for the second time.

  Rick was gone from her, too.

  Gone. It was such a lonely word.

  She refused to look at the lake or the majestic mountains beyond, patterned by the eucalypts that seemed to roll on forever. Refused to acknowledge the island with its curling slip of smoke, the only sign of life there.

  She had betrayed Rick. She had betrayed her daughter. She would never forgive herself for any of it.

  It was a long time before Julia dragged herself from her bed. She had no idea how much time or indeed if days had passed, while she’d been alternately dozing and crying. All she knew was it was dark outside now. Perfect for what she had in mind. She didn’t bother with any shoes and barely felt the grass under her feet as she made her way down towards the lake. She’d simply walk in, and drown. No one would miss her and this agony, all this self-recrimination, would be over.

  It was the log chair that caused her to pause mid-step. And the memory of Lottie Finch’s lifeless body, which had been found there, clutching her book of love poems. Julia deviated from her path and went across to sit on the seat, remembering a night just like this one.

  ‘He’s yours, you know,’ Miss Finch had said airily, as though she was commenting on the weather. ‘If you want him enough …’

  Julia blinked. From her bedroom she’d seen a light wandering around outside in the dark and come to investigate. She hadn’t expected to meet Lottie Finch, keen to have a philosophical discussion in the dead of the night.

  ‘Ricardo will change your life,’ the old lady went on. ‘Nothing will be the same any more and you will have to be strong. Can you do that? You both carry much.’

  Julia was speechless.

  Lottie pawed at Julia’s pyjamas. ‘Give me your hand.’

  Julia had held out her palm, wanting to get this over with and go back to bed.

  ‘Mmmm …’ said Lottie. She squinted her eyes at Julia’s palm as she shone a light over the creases marking her flesh. ‘You will live a long time. And you will be happy. Perhaps you of all people can help him.’

  The stars that night had been bright, Julia recalled. She sat and stared up at the brilliance of the Milky Way, wondering if Lottie was one of those diamond chips. How breathtaking it was. It made you feel so insignificant, but so happy to be alive.

  Alive. Here. Now.

  ‘You will live a long time
. And you will be happy.’ Lottie’s words ran through her head.

  Julia gazed up at the sky again and then out at the lake. All thoughts of sinking into that deep water suddenly felt foul. Selfish. She couldn’t just throw her life away when others had theirs stolen from them. She mightn’t ever be truly happy, nor have a future with Rick, but she could still live, somehow, somewhere. Perhaps she owed that to Chloe – and to Sylvia.

  Chapter 32

  Rick spent a long time checking up on the facts of Julia’s story. He talked to Ernie first, who helped him find Elsbeth’s old appointment diaries in the sprawling house.

  Rick flipped through the diary for the year that had started with that magical week with Julia. There was the entry: an early afternoon appointment on a Wednesday with one Harold Gunn. Proof that Julia had told the truth.

  He threw the diary across the room, then picked it up and ripped the pages in half one by one. How dare she? How fucking dare she? Of all the things his mother had done, this was the absolute worst. He couldn’t believe the duplicity of the woman. The arrogance. How could she have betrayed him this way? She’d not only taken Julia from him, but his daughter too; the child he’d never got to know, and now never would.

  Elsbeth Halloran had been a brilliant actress, throwing herself into her roles with incredible tenacity and talent, totally becoming that character for the period of the film. Rick couldn’t help but wonder if she’d viewed her private life like that as well: playing the femme fatale, the wronged lover and any other character she felt suited the circumstances.

  Rick was up in the mountains outside his father’s hut when Charlie finally caught up with him. They both sat for a long time in silence, backs against the hut wall, watching the sun sink, its rays catching the clouds and turning them orange and pink.

  ‘I’m so sorry, mate,’ said the old man.

  That was when Rick finally cried. For his daughter, for his parents, for the Julia he’d loved – for every single thing he’d lost in his life.

  And Charlie held him, just like he’d always held him up through the years.