“I’m sitting on the fence. I can’t see which way it will go.”
Mary leans forward, reaches for her book. “Anyway, don’t you have meditation or yoga to attend to?”
June arches a sarcastic brow. “Hint taken.”
She leaves and Mary turns back to her book, looking for the place she was at before the interruption. She scans the print, but the words hit a brick wall before they sink into her brain. Bloody June coming in here and getting me all worked up.
It’s insulting to insinuate that Mary wouldn’t do everything she can to keep this family safe and united.
She leans back against the soft cushions and peers out the window. A tinge of sadness reaches her heart. She will miss this manor and lazy moments where she can sit and look upon the countryside. It will be difficult to have strangers roaming these walls, disrespecting the history of this place.
Thoughts trickle in of the early days here at the manor when she was even younger than Pia. To be in love with all those hormones and happy chemicals was absolute bliss. Seems no matter what, most women are destined to fall for the charms of a man.
* * *
8 July 1969
Mary went to the windows of the living room and peered out, awaiting Mum and Dad’s car. The countryside was blanketed in winter—sparse dark leaves left over from autumn had fallen from trees leaving them spindly and bare.
Her body was vibrating with excited anticipation. Her baby sister June was coming to stay for the holidays. She hadn’t seen her or the rest of the family since moving to Campbell Town six months ago.
What a tragedy to strike so soon in their marriage that both of Robert’s parents passed away. But Robert was such a strong man and had soldiered on without barely a misstep. Mary would be a weeping mess if either one of her parents were to die, let alone both of them within the space of three months.
She tried not to take too much pleasure, at least in front of Robert, in the consequences of Mr and Mrs Rivers’ passing being this magnificent house. Nor is the fact that she would no longer have to put up with the most horrible mother-in-law that had ever graced this planet.
What a horrible beast she was, gossiping and rumourmongering behind her back that she wasn’t good enough for Robert. Or that she was barren. That’s what stung the most. It’s not like Mary wanted to still be without a child. But three years on and they still hadn’t been blessed despite trying very often.
Mrs Rivers constantly went on about Mary’s lack of table manners and her more colloquial accent. One day she even hit her with her cane when she spilt tea while pouring it. But she always got Mary so flustered that her hands would shake, and Viewtree House was intimidating with Mrs Rivers inside it.
Since her passing, though, she and Robert had slowly made Viewtree House into their home; it had felt much more comfortable since.
In the beginning, with every unfamiliar creak and strain as the house settled of a night while Robert and Mary slept, she would be convinced it was Mrs Rivers back to haunt her. She wouldn’t put it past her to continue to make her life miserable.
Robert was patient and understanding of her fears. He reassured her that the noises were perfectly normal. As a doctor, he adamantly did not believe in ghosts and said that it wouldn’t do her any good to do so either. She felt much less afraid after that.
Was it wrong to dislike one’s own mother-in-law so much that you were glad for her passing? Yes, it was wrong. Most definitely wrong. But it still didn’t discount Mrs Rivers’ responsibility to have been at least a bit pleasant towards her while she was alive.
Mum and Dad’s car finally pulled up and she squealed with delight. Robert was at work until this afternoon, so she was glad for the few hours alone with her family.
Her parents would stay the night, then head back to Hobart tomorrow leaving June with Mary for two whole weeks. She was hoping Grace would have come too, but her teacher’s college semester break didn’t line up with June’s.
Her family had not visited here before, and she could see by their wide eyes and arched brows as they gazed up at the manor that they were awed. Just like she had been when Robert brought her here for a day-trip soon after their wedding to visit his parents.
Then it became a monthly trip for the next three years until Mr Rivers fell ill with lung cancer. But all that time, Mary coveted this manor like nothing else.
When Mr Rivers passed too, and the inheritance paperwork was finalised, a doctor’s position came up in Campbell Town. She didn’t need to be asked twice if she wished to move.
Seeing Mum, Dad and little June now, she realised how much she missed them. Her heart burst with joy as she pushed through the front doors and rushed out to receive their embraces and utterances like, ‘Good God’ and ‘Well, I never’, and ‘This house is bloody huge’.
She took them inside and gave them the subdued tour. Mum was absolutely horrified that Mary had a housekeeper. But how was she to single-handedly keep this entire manor clean? It would be like supposing Robert could attend to the extensive lawns and gardens on his days off.
They ate afternoon tea—homemade cheese and bacon scones, which Mum had taught her how to make when an early teen—at the dining table in the kitchen. It was too cold this time of year to be out on the new pergola Robert had commissioned. They had torn down the old and cracked rectory soon after they moved in. It had been damaged in a hail storm a decade ago, but the Rivers hadn’t bothered to repair it.
Though, now that they received the inheritance money, which was next to nothing really, it was obvious the disrepair was due to a matter of finances or lack thereof.
After tea, they went into the living room to chat. They would go for a drive about the small town later on. Campbell Town was very different to Hobart. It took Mary a while to get used to the lack of anything here. But she was still hopeful that soon enough she would have children to keep her occupied.
“I thought you might have had some news for us,” Mum said. June looked mostly like Mum—short, petite and with pale hair, though Mum’s hair was greying now around her temples.
Meanwhile, Dad had been grey since forever it seemed. He was whom Mary had inherited her height, bright red hair, and, unfortunately, her long nose with a horrible big bump right on the bridge.
Grace was a weird combination of both of them—not exactly beautiful, but, in Mary’s eyes, strikingly unique. Grace always complained, in private of course, that perhaps Dad wasn’t her real father because she looked nothing like her or June.
“News? What news?” Mary asked, though she knew very well what she was hinting at—imminent babies. Her chest ached with the pain of it. It had been three long years. And though she tried her hardest to remain positive and not burden Robert with her fears, she was scared that perhaps Mrs Rivers had been right and she was barren.
Mum smiled warmly. “It will happen.”
Mary put on her bravest smile. “Of course it will.”
For dinner that night, Mum and June helped her cook roast lamb and vegetables while Robert and Dad wound down with a few glasses of scotch.
After Robert left for work the next morning, Mary farewelled her parents. She turned to June once they were out of sight and hand-in-hand, they ran back inside. They jumped, squealed and sprinted all through the house.
“I want to live here with you,” June said when they both lunged onto her bed and jumped up and down until they were puffed.
“I want you to as well. I’m sure Robert wouldn’t mind.”
They fell back against the pillows, chests rising and falling as they caught their breaths, but were unable to wipe the smiles from their faces.
Mary reached for June’s hand to hold it, but she noticed something she would never have expected to see. She flinched away from her. Her heart raced at a thumping pace. It couldn’t be. She looked again to make sure she wasn’t mis-seeing.
Under the lines of June’s loose-fitting dress as it moulded to the shape of her body, there was a defi
nite bump in her abdomen. But there had to be another explanation. June was fifteen years old.
June noticed her looking and quickly sat up, ballooning her dress with her hand so it didn’t sit flush against her stomach. Confirmation enough.
“You’re pregnant?” Mary gasped, sitting up now too.
“You can’t tell Mum and Dad,” she said quickly, eyes wide with fear. Her lips were trembling with imminent tears, as were Mary’s—with jealousy.
The first emotion was envy that her sister, who was only fifteen, could fall pregnant when she, who was twenty-one, married, and had been trying for over three years, couldn’t.
“They will be so upset,” June said.
“They will bloody kill you.”
“That’s why you can’t say anything.”
Mary shook her head. “They’re going to find out sooner or later. You won’t be able to hide that,” she pointed to her belly, “for much longer. And what will you do when the baby comes?”
Tears welled in June’s eyes as she shook her head. Such hopelessness in that motion. “I don’t know.”
“Who is the father?”
“My boyfriend. Joshua. We love each other. He said he’ll marry me.”
“You’re too young to get married.”
“Only by a year.”
“And how old is he?” Mary asked.
“Fifteen.”
“He can’t get married until he’s eighteen, June. But marriage won’t change anything anyway. How are you going to support this child?”
Tears welled again and she sniffled. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
It struck Mary, once the jealousy was peeled away, that the reality of this was far more horrible than she first thought.
Mary knew the truth. She had heard of it happening with a couple of girls at her school and a few more at neighbouring schools.
Babies born to young mothers were taken away. To be pregnant young, outside of marriage, was so shameful for the family that they would hide the girl away and as soon as the baby was born, take it from her and put it up for adoption.
“You won’t get to keep your baby,” Mary said.
June’s breaths came harder in her chest, audible in the otherwise quiet room. “I know.” She let out a long choked sob and said so mournfully, it broke Mary’s heart in two. “I know.”
Chapter 22
June
Pia joins June for her Friday morning yoga class. She looks adorable in her new, patterned yoga pants (with an adjustable tummy) that June bought for her online. Too many years have passed since she’s been able to spoil her family with gifts, so she will take as much advantage of the situation as her budget will allow.
After class, they stick around and talk with the ladies who attended. They are all curious about the renovations to the manor. June hadn’t realised that the townsfolk were as eager to see inside Viewtree House as the tourists.
Their interest shone a light on how private and secluded she and Mary have been in that house. Almost to the point of impoliteness.
“Sounds like we may even have locals staying at the manor once it’s finished,” Pia says as they stroll towards the café, sticking to June’s regular routine. Though this time it’s pleasant having someone to accompany her.
“I would never have guessed. To me, the manor is an old decrepit money dump. But there was a time when I thought it was magical. I guess for the town, they feel that way too.”
“Luca loves the place.”
June looks sidelong at Pia at the mention of Luca’s name and suppresses the slow curl of her lips.
“He said he would ride past every afternoon on the way home from school and admire the architecture.”
“I suppose a keen builder like him would be interested in such things. Among other things.”
Pia narrows her eyes at June.
“What?” she asks, all innocence.
“I was making conversation.”
June laughs. “So was I. But I really can’t blame you. He’s gorgeous. Like an Italian statue. Can you imagine what he looks like shirtless? I’ve been hoping the weather grows hot enough for him to take it off. Imagine him naked? That backside.” She lifts the back of her hand to her forehead and pretends to swoon.
Pia laughs. “I’m surprised you’re not chasing him yourself.”
Hardly. June wasn’t so progressive that she was incapable of knowing he was much too young. “No. I’ll leave him for you.”
They arrive at the café and despite her better judgement, a tug of anticipation swells in the pit of her belly to see Damien. He lifts his head from where he’s pouring frothy milk into espresso. She smiles. He grins back but adds a bonus wink.
Does he look particularly good today? She realises he’s had a haircut and is sporting a few days stubble. Rugged is the word that comes to mind. Nothing wrong with rugged.
“Hi.”
“Morning, June. Morning, Pia. How are you ladies today?”
“Tired now,” Pia says, shaking out her arms. “Aunt June runs a tough class.”
“I can imagine she would. No rest for the wicked.”
“Exactly,” June says with a laugh that sounds overdone even to her own ears. “We’ll take a seat outside.”
“I’ll be out soon.”
They find a seat in the dappled sunlight at a small table on the back timber deck.
Pia catches her gaze and smiles cheekily. “Damien is one sexy older man.”
June laughs. “He is attractive. And not at all old.”
“I said older, not old.”
Although, June remembers when she was Pia’s age, anyone over forty was old. “So how are you feeling? Is the morning sickness subsiding?”
Pia shrugs. “Somewhat. As long as I do what you said about eating immediately.”
“Good. And this yoga will do you wonders. Keep you fit and strong for when you need to use all of your womanly strength and energy to deliver this baby.”
“That, I’m not looking forward to.”
June laughs. “It’s not pleasant.” She reaches for a menu and opens it up at the beverages section. “From what I hear anyway.”
“What are you drinking?” Pia asks, perusing her own menu.
June closes hers and places it back on the table. “The usual.”
Damien heads over to their table and June looks up into his eyes. Warmth exudes from their depths. His aura is golden; such calm, patient and loving energy rolls off of him.
June has met two men like that in her lifetime. And suffered two broken hearts. The first was when she was fifteen. Joshua Aitkens. Her first love. The boy she lost her virginity to. He was kind and caring and even at that age, willing to protect and support her. But that ended abruptly when she moved to Campbell Town to live with Mary and Robert.
She had been so heartbroken to leave him behind, but it was for the greater good in the end.
The next man she met when she was twenty-four. Adam Henniker. He was unbelievably handsome and had the most incredible green eyes that seemed to look deep into her soul. He was passionate, emotional and worshipped June.
But it moved so fast with him. He wanted more from her than she was capable of giving. The last she heard, he was still married to the woman he met soon after their relationship ended.
She finds it hard to believe that she could be blessed three times in her life with three good men, so she won’t be tempting fate.
“What can I get for you both? The usual, June?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
“And I’ll have an iced chocolate with lots of cream on top, please,” Pia says.
June arches a brow and can’t curtail the curl of her lips.
“No worries,” he says, scribbling the order on a small notepad. “What are you both doing for Christmas? I assume with you all in the one house, you’ll be staying home?”
“Christmas,” Pia says. “I forgot about that.”
“I’ve had a brief talk with Ma
ry.” June rests her chin on her hands, elbows on the table. “We’ll be staying home. Not sure what the others are planning on yet. What are you up to, Damien? Going to stay with your daughter in Perth?”
He shakes his head and there’s a sadness in his smile. “No, not this year. They’re heading over to Bali. So it will just be me. Not that I mind. Plenty to occupy me.”
She nods, afraid to open her mouth because at the back of her throat is an invitation to join her at Viewtree House.
“Anyway, I’ll be back with your drinks soon.”
June takes a moment to compose herself before focusing on Pia’s curious stare, which she can feel as strongly as a slap.
“You should have asked him over,” she says, in an admonishing tone.
“I know.”
“He seems like a great guy.”
“He is.”
“Then what?” Pia asks.
June sighs as she shakes her head. She doesn’t really know what’s holding her back when it comes to Damien. All she knows is that she isn’t ready. “Nothing. I’m happy on my own.”
Pia leans forward and fiddles with a loose strand of cotton on the table runner. “You know, I’ve never actually known of you to be in a long-term relationship.”
June shrugs. “That’s because I enjoy my independence too much.’
“Maybe you should read your own tarot cards. See if there’s love in your future.”
“You can’t read your own cards.”
“Maybe I can read them for you,” Pia suggests.
June laughs. “I’m not interested in knowing my future.” In fact, the future is something she stopped planning for many years ago.
Pia looks through the back doors, inside where Damien is. June doesn’t follow her line of sight. She doesn’t need to—she has Damien memorised. “When he comes back, ask him?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Are you frightened he’ll reject you? Because I promise you he won’t. You’re hot. If I look like you when I’m … older, I’ll be one happy woman.”
June laughs and despite spending many years trying not to value her looks, but rather the other attributes she has as a woman, the compliment warms her heart and ignites happy chemicals in her brain.
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