by Margaret Way
“Who kept his sins well hidden,” her distinguished-looking father said in a bitter, judgemental tone as they walked towards the parked cars. Nigel James cut a very impressive figure, immaculately turned out in a tailored black suit with a snowy white shirt and black and silver striped tie. His strong resemblance to his late brother had turned many heads.
“My dear!” Rachael looked aghast at her very grand partner before placing a consoling hand on Mallory’s shoulder. Mallory, however, turned on her father with a burning anger that startled even her. She stood, an avenging angel demanding to know what he meant.
“I’m sorry if the remark upset you, Mallory.” Nigel James spoke with his customary arrogance and lack of empathy. “You have to rub the fairy dust out of your eyes so far as my dear brother was concerned.”
Mallory opened and closed her hands helplessly, then she exploded, her anger was so deep and raw. “Beside Uncle Robert, Father, you’re a shallow, shallow man.”
Nigel James appeared quite unmoved. “A stupid, groundless accusation,” he declared, but there was an odd flickering in his eyes.
Blaine put a steadying hand on Mallory’s arm. “I think, sir, we might stop there.” There was steel in his voice and demeanour. Blaine was not impressed by the great man.
“Your father might look like Robert, but there the resemblance ends,” Blaine said, as he led Mallory away. Nigel James’s behaviour in his opinion was to be strongly condemned.
“I was fortunate not growing up with him,” Mallory said. “I was so lucky to have had my uncle.”
Blaine, standing quietly, felt unbearably moved by the emotion in Mallory’s low, melodic voice. He too would miss Robert greatly. Robb had been like an uncle to him, always there, comforting him after the loss of his father, always gentle, accommodating, ready to listen to his grand plans, often offering very good advice which he’d had the sense to heed. In silence he steered the heartbroken Mallory in the direction of the great sheltering poincianas that brought glory into the town cemetery. The trees reminded mourners that life went on, and one had little option but to go with it.
“It’s a comfort to think he did open the door onto his rose garden,” she said.
“And it was a beautiful gesture sending Robb’s favourite roses with him on the long journey.”
“To what far off place, Blaine? Do we get to experience all the wonderful things we missed out on in life when we arrive at Paradise? We all ask what life’s about. What is death all about? If it’s possible for spirits to do so, my mother has already taken him by the hand. Non omnis moriar. ‘I shall not altogether die.’ No one dies who lives on in our hearts. You have wonderful memories of your father. I have wonderful memories of my mother and Uncle Robert at Moonglade. I believe the air inside a house retains imprints of the people who have lived and died there. Who’s to know differently? I have a deep respect for the paranormal. I know you find that unsettling, but that’s the way I am. Thank you so much for being with me today, Blaine. Thank you for being so supportive. Uncle Robert did love you. There were times I did feel jealous, but I’ll never go there again.”
They walked across the thick emerald grass to the vehicles awaiting them, steering away from Nigel James and the too-good-for-him Rachael. Mallory’s high heels were digging into the turf. Once on the concrete path she wrenched her wide-brimmed white hat off her aching head. She hadn’t worn black. She wore white for Uncle Robert. White too was the colour of grief. She had only changed the trim on her hat to a black band of wide ribbon. “What was my father getting at, do you suppose?” she asked, shaking her long hair out of its elegant knot.
Blaine watched in a sensual trance as her golden mane fell around her face and over her shoulders. The sun picked out all the gold. “I really don’t know. No place to get into a family fall-out.”
“I’m sorry. I momentarily saw red. Why did he come? Was it just to say that? To hint at his brother’s hidden sins? Anyone would think he hated Uncle Robert. He was always ridiculing him and his writing. Always ridiculing how Uncle Robert felt about my mother.”
“Jealousy is one of the deadly sins.” Blaine lifted a hand to acknowledge a group of townspeople. Mallory spotted Jason with Kathy and Jessica flanking him like soldiers from opposing forces. It would be difficult to find two young women roughly the same age, born in the same town, so totally unalike. They might have come from two different species. All three were wearing funereal black. No sign of little Ivy. It had to be one of those days when she actually made school. Kathy gave a timid wave. The twins scorned such a demonstration. Neither knew how to count their blessings. They had been invited back to the house along with many others.
Normal practice yet it feels like a big mistake.
“You’re saying my father was jealous of Uncle Robert?” Mallory picked up on Blaine’s remark.
“If only because your mother loved him. The book of Shelley’s poems Robert was reading bore a loving inscription from your mother.”
Truth had its impact. “Was my father hinting they’d resumed their early relationship when he wasn’t around?”
Blaine had given a lot of thought to that idea. “God knows, Mallory.” Robert had been jubilant about something. What?
“I’m sorry Uncle Robert wasn’t my father,” said Mallory, her mind now in a chaotic whirl. “We are all, all spectacularly flawed. One of Jean-Paul Sartre’s fun quotes.”
* * *
The wake was off with a swing. The house was overflowing with people. In the formal dining room, the mahogany table that could seat twenty-two when fully extended, as now, was laid out like a buffet: various platters, ham, chicken, smoked salmon, a great mound of tiger prawns straight from the sea. There were salads to accompany the platters, freshly baked rolls, stacked Royal Doulton plates, glasses, and silverware. On the matching mahogany sideboard were bottles of Scotch, bourbon, beer, ice in silver buckets, and glasses. At the far end a table held bottles of frosty cold nonalcoholic drinks and mineral water. It might have been a party. She could even hear cheerful voices and the occasional burst of laughter, swiftly choked off. People did tend to laugh at funerals and cry at weddings.
Many of the mourners had already piled their plates lustily, perhaps fearing an imminent world famine. Others were browsing around the offerings, some savouring a quick morsel or two. No one was going without. Next step, a nice cold drink before making for the wide sheltered porch to catch up with friends. Whose idea had it been to celebrate death? Queen Victoria?
Mallory could see her father, tall and handsome, with Rachael by his side. As usual he was holding court, the alpha male. Mallory found his manner vaguely histrionic, but people were looking at him with admiration writ large on their attentive faces. One or two even stood open-mouthed. Her father had a considerable flair for gaining crowd admiration. He should have been a politician.
Slightly sickened she turned away. Her father had never spoken two words to her that had struck her as profound. He and Rachael were staying overnight. They had a return flight to Sydney in the morning.
The will would be read late that afternoon. There was dinner to be got through but she had asked Blaine and Gerald Templeton—Uncle Robert’s friend, confidant, lawyer, and business advisor—and his wife Leila, to join them, making six at table. She wondered if she should approach her father again about the brutal remark he had passed about his own brother on the very day of Robert’s funeral. The prospect horrified her even as she was desperate to know what had provoked such a remark.
A small figure came up behind Mallory. “Your uncle was a lovely man,” the voice said simply. “I’ll miss him. You have my deepest sympathy.”
Mallory turned. Aware eyes were on them, she threw her arm protectively around the speaker’s shoulders. Skin and bone. “Thank you, Kathy. Thank you for coming. Uncle Robert was a lovely man. I’ll miss him terribly.”
“We all will,” said Kathy, fragile as a baby bird that had fallen out of the nest. Her short black dress had
an unfortunate rusty sheen. She must have taken a pair of scissors to her thick sable hair; it was unevenly cut. Her lovely eyes, however, shone with gratitude for Mallory’s support. Both young women were well aware people had turned to watch them, expecting perhaps a show of hostility from Mallory. Even the level of rumbling in the spacious room had fallen to an expectant hush. What were they expecting, a punch-up? Punch-ups were featuring at weddings. Perhaps the trend would spread to funerals.
“Is Ivy well?” Even on this sad day Mallory was anxious for news.
“She hasn’t been sick for a while I’m glad to say.” Kathy found a tiny smile. “Jessy tells me I’m a bad mother. I suppose I am, but I do try, Mallory. I love my little Ivy with all my heart. She’s all I’ve got. The only one who truly loves me. I don’t understand why she’s so prone to sickness. I had no attention at all as a kid. I ran wild, yet I thrived.”
“We’ll sort it out, Kathy, I promise.” Mallory gave the young woman’s arm several comforting pats. “If there’s an answer—and there will be—we’ll find it. Have I your permission to speak to Ivy’s doctor?”
“Of course you have. I’d be so grateful.”
“That’s all I need to know. Try not to worry too much, Kathy. I’m here for you and Ivy. We’ll catch up later, I promise.”
Kathy bowed her shorn dark head, exposing her vulnerable nape. “I hope so, Mallory. It’s been a hard year.”
The sadness of that hit Mallory like a blow. A sad year in a sad life. There were all different kinds of grief. Some children were born into a loving family and a stable home. Other children were born into lives of never-ending misery and abuse. Even without Jessica and the three-in-a marriage scenario, Kathy’s marriage to Jason would have been doomed from the start. Jason didn’t have the qualities Kathy needed. She had to question now just what Jason’s good qualities were. Kathy was in a psychologically vulnerable state, harried to the point of doing herself harm. The risk factors were there: the unhappy marriage, the day-to-day presence of her husband’s hostile twin, the concern over Ivy’s poor state of health. Dot had hinted Kathy might have suffered postpartum depression after the birth of Ivy. Was it possible Kathy, with all the stress in her life, had developed another psychiatric disorder? It couldn’t be discounted, but at the gut level, Mallory wasn’t convinced that Kathy would follow the path of harming her child.
She’s all I’ve got.
Kathy drifted away aimlessly, huddled into herself like a punished child. Mallory had the strange feeling Kathy could make herself invisible if she so chose. Mallory scanned the crowd, feeling herself the object of a hard-eyed stare. Across the room stood Jessica Cartwright, looking like she was on the verge of hurling a Molotov cocktail.
Jessica Cartwright at no stage of her life had been a fun person. Now she was downright scary. She looked Mallory dead in the eye, her regular features stretched as tight as Nefertiti’s mummy. Mallory nodded back sombrely. She wondered if Jason would approach her. The twins’ mother and father had attended the graveside service, but Mallory didn’t expect to see them at the house. She hadn’t as yet been able to organise a meeting with Jason to get his permission for Ivy to meet her grandparents.
Ten minutes later, Jason, drink in hand, came to her side. His rigid jaw and the glitter in his eyes psyched out the couple who had been speaking to Mallory. They scattered like pigeons.
“I just wanted to say how sorry I am, Mallory,” Jason mumbled through a locked jaw. “Robert was a good man.”
“He was, Jason. Where would you have been without him?”
“What’s to happen now?”
His future at the farm was clearly the uppermost thing in his mind. “Do you mean will you continue managing the farm?” Mallory met the bright blue eyes so fixated on her. Same eyes as Jessica. Same colour. Same setting. “Do you need to discuss it now?” She felt a degree of shock. Didn’t Jason have any insight into how she was feeling?
“Jess wants to know.” Jason predictably shifted any responsibility onto his twin.
Mallory’s icy retort carried weight. “Listen, Jason, I’ve had enough of Jess, indeed this whole twinship thing. It can’t be good for the soul.”
Jason’s face tightened. “You might think you know, Mallory, but you don’t. For all your precious degree, you’re way too confined in your thinking. What Jess and I need to know is where we go from here. I expect your uncle left you the whole shebang?”
Mallory glanced away from him, searching the crowd for Blaine’s handsome head. He wasn’t in the room. His height alone would have allowed her to see him. “Jason, I don’t want to talk about this now,” she said, mindful of all the curious eyes. “The will hasn’t even been read.”
“We all know what’s in it. Robb adored his princess. ‘For whosoever hath, to her shall be given, and she shall have more abundance.’”
“Yes, Jason, King James Bible.”
“You always were too smart for me.”
“You could say that.”
Jason passed a hand over his damp forehead. “When you inherit Moonglade, is it possible you might stay on? There’s a lot you can do up here, Mal. You could make a good life for yourself.”
“What, start up with you again? Is that what you’re saying?” she asked incredulously. “I want a life of meaning, Jason. It doesn’t include you.” Deliberately Mallory turned to move away. “I thought you and Jessica were anxious for me to leave?”
His shoulders hunched. “I’m not. Have you the slightest idea how much it upsets me seeing you? God, Mallory, we were engaged. Doesn’t that mean anything to you anymore? I loved you then. I love you now.”
Mallory didn’t have the mind or the energy to tackle the situation. “Jason, stop hankering over what you can’t have. Maybe that’s my big attraction. You want what you can’t have. Kathy looks frail. She was such a pretty girl.”
Jason gave a shrug of cruel indifference. “My marriage is mired in disgust. Disgust for myself. Disgust for Kathy.” Abruptly he broke off, his gaze moving towards the entrance hall. “I see Forrester is strongly in the picture,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his jealousy. “Standing beside you at the graveside, your ever-present protector, the man with the bottomless coffers. He even cut your father out of the picture. I saw the two of you stalk off together.”
“Blaine is the sort of man who is there when you need him. My father and I have always had a blighted relationship, Jason. You know that, so don’t try shoving him in with the good guys. I should point out, in case it’s slipped your mind, Blaine Forrester too has been very generous to you.”
“God, yes.” Jason racked his blond hair back with an agitated hand. “The S.O.B. is popular everywhere. No wonder he’s so full of himself.”
“He isn’t, but he has good reason to be. Jason, there is something I need to bring up again. It’s allowing your parents to see Ivy. I have no idea what caused the estrangement, but no blame should be placed on Ivy’s innocent head. Will you promise me to think about it?”
“It won’t work.” His tone gave new meaning to the word “adamant.”
Mallory had to shut down on all the speculations that had plagued her. “I’d really appreciate it if you would try. You have to make a move towards reconciliation. Your parents could help a lot with Ivy.”
Another man might have replied he would lay down his life for his child, but Jason’s attention was elsewhere. Blaine Forrester was at the forefront of his mind. “Forrester is coming this way.” The expression in his blue eyes betrayed his raging jealousy far more than any words could. “I don’t think he’s going to allow you to disappear. Not this time.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere, Jason. We’ll talk again at a more appropriate time. I hope then you’ll have a calm mind.”
* * *
That was the lull before the storm. There was worse to come. Jessica waited for her moment to find her way to Mallory’s side. Mallory was pushing a tall gladiolus deeper into its vase when she was forced to
turn and confront a woman with all the disorderly elements of her personality on display. Even with her long experience of Jessica, it still came as a shock to see such aversion. Jessica Cartwright had turned into a woman it would be wise to shun.
“Tell me, without me having to beg, you’re going to allow Jason to continue to run the farm?” asked Jessica, quietly strident.
Mallory chose to use her calm, professional voice, thinking some psychotic break could be about to manifest itself in the twins. “This is a wake, Jessica.” People were staring over their shoulders even as they made their departure. “I’ve only just buried my uncle. He took pity on Jason, gave him a start. He allowed you employment at the farm as well.”
Her words fell on deaf ears. Jessica was lost in the workings of her own mind. “So are you going to continue to keep us on, or are you going to shut the place down?” She threw up agitated hands. There was some odd purplish staining on some of her fingers. Mulberry juice? Plenty of mulberry trees on the estate. Didn’t she at least try to wash it off?
“I wouldn’t be in the least surprised,” Jessica continued. “You’re not really one of us. You never were.”
“Who are you, exactly?” Mallory was not about to be provoked into a face-off. “You have a strange way of trying to get me on side, Jessica. Jason has already asked me what I intend to do. That both of you should approach me about this, today of all days, I find disturbing.”
Jessica only looked baffled and enraged. “It was an opportunity,” she said, as though that fully accounted for the confrontation. “We had to take it.”
“Why not let Jason handle it then?” From long training, Mallory was concealing her upset. “Why would you need to double up?”
Mallory’s apparently calm demeanour was reducing Jessica to a splutter. She threw off such sparks of hostility they almost visibly circled her head. “Jason is a perfect fool. He still fancies himself in love with you. Banging on about you all the time. Mallory is everything that’s decent, noble, and pure.”