by Helene Young
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Lissie, Ella, welcome.’
Ivy struggled to push the screen door open and Felicity took the pressure from the hinges with her shoulder before leaning across to kiss her mother’s cool cheek. The scent of face powder hadn’t changed in fifty years. Ella squeezed next to her, shoving the screen wider, and wrapped her arms around Ivy.
‘Granny D, it’s been so long!’ She ruffled the old lady’s hair, then smoothed it back in place, tucking it behind Ivy’s ears.
‘Never you mind mussing my hair, Ella. I brushed it especially for you.’
‘And we noticed. Is the kettle on?’
‘Of course, of course.’ Ivy manoeuvred the walker around, talking over her shoulder as Ella followed her into the kitchen. The high ceilings and breeze coming in through the open front door brought a welcome relief from the heat. The hallstand at the far end, draped in coats and topped with hats, looked like a silhouette of a tree against the midday light.
Felicity let the screen door go and followed them to the kitchen. She placed the Esky on the black-and-white checked tiles next to the double-door fridge and unloaded the fresh dairy items she’d bought in Cairns. There was plenty of food on the shelves. At least Ivy was still doing her shopping. As she closed the fridge, Felicity glanced at the photographs in their magnetic frames on the door. They hadn’t changed in years. The Dunmore family was caught in a time warp. Felicity found the one of herself she’d always loved. Her chestnut hair was caught back in a ponytail, her smile broad and her eyes shining as she patted the neck of her horse, Bennie. She was wearing a checked shirt and her favourite jeans, looking trim and strong. There was no way she’d fit those jeans now. Where had that confident young woman gone?
She turned back to the others. Ivy was smiling while Ella chatted about work, but her eyes lacked their usual sparkle.
‘I’ll make you a cuppa,’ Ella said, reaching into the glass-fronted cupboard for the large teapot.
‘No, no. I’ll do it.’ Ivy’s shoulders straightened under the soft fabric of her dress and she reached for the teapot. ‘I’ll do it,’ she repeated, a little too forcefully.
‘Okay.’ Ella raised an eyebrow at her mother. Ivy’s independence didn’t usually run to the teapot. She stepped out of the way as Ivy turned down the gas on the large range top and poured hot water into the pot. Felicity gave a tiny shrug and Ella took up the conversation again, telling her grandmother about her job as Ivy continued her tea ritual. Once the porcelain pot was warmed, Ivy carefully measured four spoons of leaf into it, then added boiling water.
Leaving the tea to brew, she opened a familiar old biscuit tin, the wattle and honeyeater design still visible on the lid. The smell of orange syrup made Felicity’s mouth water.
Ivy held out a plate. ‘The cake’s delicious.’
‘As always,’ Felicity said.
Ella took a big bite of her slice and closed her eyes. ‘Oh yum, Granny D. You should be listed as a living treasure.’
As Ella teased her grandmother, Felicity pondered Joan’s words. Surely if Ivy could still bake cakes, she wasn’t losing mental capacity. Maybe it was just old age making her forget she’d paid for fuel? A bit rude that Ken was letting her pay, but that had been the pattern for a long time, at least since his divorce. The girls stood on their own feet while the golden-haired boy took a handout. Not that anyone outside the family knew that. With a few notable exceptions, everyone in the district loved Ken, although they all loved speculating about him as well.
Ivy poured the tea into her prized Royal Doulton cups with their distinctive rose pattern and gold edging. The tea service didn’t often make it down from the top shelf these days.
Felicity joined her mother and daughter at the table and glanced around the kitchen. The neat row of canisters still vied with the spice rack for space on the gleaming marble benchtop. The recipe book was open on the wooden stand with the picture of a cake that looked very much like the one they were eating. The dishcloth was neatly folded in the draining rack, the sink plugs were hung the same as always around the central swivel tap. Yes, there was a little more dust in the corners than the Ivy of old would have tolerated but Ivy seemed very much in the present and in charge of her domain.
‘I thought you might like a drive into town later, Granny D,’ Ella said, adding sugar to her tea. ‘Do some shopping, have a coffee at Ma’s Kitchen?’
Ivy brightened. ‘There’s a new place that’s opened. It sells books and crystals as well as coffee. They’ve got one of those fancy machines from Italy, according to Esmay.’
‘A new place? The old ones are flat out surviving with the drought.’
‘We’ll need some new ones with that development on the other side of the ridge.’
‘The Trethowans’ development?’ Felicity asked. ‘Joan mentioned something was going on.’
‘What development?’ asked Ella.
‘At the caves.’ Ivy shot her a look.
‘I’m surprised Mitch is looking for another income stream. I thought his live cattle deal would keep him busy,’ Felicity said, wondering why Ivy was now avoiding eye contact with her.
‘Maybe he’s the only one with money to do it. It’s an eco camp for tourists so they can visit a couple of the Arran caves.’
‘Doesn’t he need your permission to do that? They lie under both properties.’
‘Depends what he’s doing,’ Ivy replied. ‘I always thought they should have been opened to the public. It was your father who thought otherwise.’
‘I remember the day Dad found out Mitch and I had been swimming there. He went ballistic.’
Ivy’s voice sank to a murmur. ‘Charlie hated the caves, especially the Venus cave. It was hard enough losing his two middle brothers in the war. Then in a moment of madness he went from being the youngest of four to being the sole surviving child.’ She shook her head and looked up at them, tears brimming. ‘Your father never really got over losing Albert and Dottie like that. A terrible tragedy.’
‘They drowned down there, didn’t they? And their son too? Wasn’t he just a baby?’ Ella asked. ‘I’ve forgotten his name.’
Ivy nodded, her eyes dropping to her hands. ‘Little Albert. They were all swept away when a freak thunderstorm dumped three inches of rain on us. The house tanks overflowed within half an hour.’ Ivy’s eyes were unfocused and Felicity knew that old memories were sharpest for her mother now. It was normal at her age. ‘I was baking that day; slices, biscuits. It was a real stinker. Humidity made my meringues fall flat. Dottie came to see me, you know. I wish I’d talked her out of going for a picnic in those blasted caves.’
‘Surely Ernie would have known about the dangers. He grew up here,’ Ella asked. ‘I mean, I knew all about the dangers and I was rarely allowed to go there.’
‘You were only allowed to visit with me and your father. And only when Charlie wasn’t here,’ Felicity reminded her.
Ivy continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. ‘Old Mrs Dunmore said Ernie was never the same after he came home from the war. None of them were.’
‘What about Dottie?’ Ella insisted. ‘Wouldn’t she have realised they needed to leave when the rain started falling?’
‘No,’ Ivy replied. ‘Dottie was an English girl, Manchester born and bred.’
‘Must have rocked the whole district.’
‘Everyone turned up to search. A terrible business. Your grandfather wanted to seal the whole network of caves. Mr Trethowan was kind enough to indulge him and leave them in peace. But Mitch sees it differently, and Charlie’s gone now.’
‘I guess you can’t lock places up forever because of one tragedy,’ said Felicity. She agreed with Mitch. And she’d argued with her father over the caves.
‘Old Nev stayed clear, too, but Patrick says the spirits are easy there now.’ Ivy’s voice wobbled. ‘Grief made Charlie crazy and he wanted to forget them. But I used to visit on the anniversary. It didn’t seem right that we never talke
d about them.’
The three women sat for a moment. The cry of a plover in the back paddock cut through the silence, then died away.
Time to change the mood. Felicity put her cup down, hesitating only a fraction. ‘Joan said to let you know that she’d checked the tapes and you definitely paid for Ken’s fuel.’
‘I did not,’ Ivy said, her chin lifting. ‘I did no such thing.’ Anger blazed in her eyes and Felicity felt a jolt of alarm.
‘She checked the security footage, Mum. You were there.’
For a long moment Ivy glared at Felicity before her mouth tightened and her gaze dropped. She looked defeated.
‘Yes, well.’ Ivy mumbled, staring at her hands now entwined in her lap. ‘Perhaps I’m mistaken. If Joan says I paid, then I must have. It’s just a silly misunderstanding.’
‘Right.’
Ella pulled a face at her mother. The other possible explanation sat uneasily. Had Ken used his mother’s credit card without her knowledge? If Joan was right and Ken was trying to find buyers for Arran Downs and Roseglen, maybe he was financially strapped. If so, she really needed to talk to Georgina. She’d try her again when they were in town. Mobile phone reception out at Roseglen was patchy and who knew where in the world Georgina was.
‘Let’s go for a drive, pick up any shopping you need, Granny D, and by then it will be time for another coffee at this new place you mentioned.’ Ella got to her feet and began to clear the table. Gratefully, Felicity followed her lead.
‘And what shall we have for dinner?’ she asked.
‘Whatever it is there’ll be enough for four,’ Ivy said, brightening up as she levered herself to her feet.
‘Four?’ Please say you didn’t invite Ken. After the last unpleasant family dinner, she thought Ivy had given up pretending they were one big happy family.
‘Mitch. He was here this morning so I asked him to dinner.’
Felicity heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Fine. No known allergies and eats everything in large quantities.’
‘He does like a good lamb or beef dish.’
‘Awesome. I’ll cook,’ Ella intervened. ‘I love cooking in this kitchen.’
‘I’m sure he’d like something your mother cooked, Ella.’
Felicity caught the sly innuendo. ‘Mitch won’t care who’s prepared the dinner, Mum.’
‘You might be surprised,’ Ivy said, with a wistful little smile as she pushed her wheeler across to the short corridor that led to her bedroom and further on to the office.
‘Granny D’s always loved Mitch,’ Ella said.
‘Yep, she has.’ Felicity was not having this conversation with her daughter.
‘And she’s told me too many times how sweet he was on you.’
‘Wishful thinking. Not all her meddling paid off.’
‘So what’s the go with the fuel bill, then?’ Ella asked, drying her hands.
‘I don’t know, but I need to call Georgie.’
‘Anything I can do? Any probing questions?’ Ella asked, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.
‘No. There may be a simple explanation. You know how she dotes on Ken.’
‘Loser.’ Ella’s lip curled.
The sound of Ivy clacking back from her bedroom had them both very busy. The scent of lilies preceded her. Ivy never went anywhere without perfume and lipstick.
‘I’m ready, Ella,’ she said, pausing at the doorway. ‘Shall we go out the back?’
‘Of course!’ Ella swung her keys. ‘Let’s hit the shops.’
Felicity followed them out, closing the back door and pointing the two dogs to their kennel. Ella had Ivy safely strapped into the front seat. Mrs Dunmore never rode in the back.
As they drove out of the property, Felicity glanced up at the homestead. Home. Was she being unduly nostalgic thinking she could move back here and start again? Almost fifty years old with nothing to show for all her hard work. This was not how she’d envisaged her life playing out. Grief, regret, anger, guilt, a touch of relief. The whole damn raft of emotions swirled around, tightening her chest and growing that knot in her stomach. All she wanted was peace in her life, her children to be healthy and happy, and her mother to be safe in her old age. That wasn’t too much to ask.
‘No, sir, I think you’re mistaken.’ Georgina stood her ground, ignoring the trickle of sweat running down her spine and soaking the waistband of her black pants. The front line of a volatile union picket was looking like a picnic right now. She may have just as many gold stripes on her shoulders as the Syrian army officer standing legs astride in front of her, but the gun on his hip tipped the scales. And his lackeys, lounging with semi-automatics, carried even more weight. She knew all about hunting rifles and handguns, but not this sort of firepower.
Ray cleared his throat beside her and pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head. ‘If I may suggest, sir, you could ring the aid agency and confirm the permits to leave have been issued and authorised by your government. These are the people on the manifest and they have all cleared your immigration control.’ The aircraft sitting on the dusty tarmac in the glare of the afternoon sun was full of old women and young children with fear in their eyes, clutching bundles to their chests, shoes disintegrating on their feet, hunger and suffering loosening the skin across their bones. Heartbreaking. The cargo hold of the Hercules, normally filled with pallets and containers, had been fitted with temporary sling seating. Conditions couldn’t be any more basic.
The man looked at Ray for a long moment. ‘They could tell me anything over the telephone. No one is to leave Palmyra!’
He swung on his heel and stomped away towards the hangars, sunlight catching the gold braid on his cap.
‘Jesus,’ Ray said. ‘This was supposed to be routine. What’s up his arse?’
‘I don’t know yet, but we’re burning fuel keeping the aircraft cool and we don’t have much to spare. If this goes on much longer, we’ll need to find somewhere else to refuel along the way. We’re not going to find a tanker here.’
‘How long’s this goin’ to take?’
She ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling the grit and dryness of the desert air. Even Palmyra’s elevation of 1300 feet didn’t quite take the edge off the heat. ‘As long as it takes.’
‘You’re not tempted to just go, ma’am?’
Incredulous, she looked at him. ‘Have you seen the size of the hardware they have on the perimeter of this place? You reckon we’d get halfway down the runway before all those barrels were trained on us and we were sent to our maker in an almighty explosion? Shit, Ray, don’t even think about it.’
‘But we could be here for . . .’
‘Don’t go there,’ Georgina said, pulling her vibrating phone from her pocket. She turned away, her ears hurting from the roar of a departing fighter jet. Missed call from Felicity. She hadn’t left a message so it couldn’t be too urgent. Which was lucky since she sure as hell didn’t have time to deal with anything else, let alone bad news from home.
Her phone rang again. The officer was still in a huddle with someone else so she answered.
‘Georgie Dunmore.’
‘Hey, sis. It’s me. Where are you?’
‘On a godforsaken tarmac in Syria trying to convince this arsehole that my paperwork is correct.’
‘Oh my God. You want me to call back later? Are you safe?’
Georgie bit back a curse. She shouldn’t have said anything. Lissie had the worrier gene. ‘We’ll be fine. It will just take time. So what’s up?’
‘Couple of things actually, but I’ll ring you later.’
‘No, no, don’t hang up. I’m probably going to be stuck here for a while. Go ahead.’
‘Well.’ There was a pause. ‘Todd and I are getting a divorce.’
‘Seriously?’ Georgina was surprised her sister wasn’t in tears. ‘About bloody time. No offence, but I never did see the attraction.’
‘Don’t mince words, then.’ The hurt was clear in Felicity’s voice eve
n through a crackling phone line.
‘Come on, Lissie, you know I love you. I wish you all the best for the next fifty years and I hope you find a good man. So what happened?’
‘Long story but he’s been having an affair with the neighbour.’
‘That dreadful woman who seemed to love her collagen and botox? I could never work out if she was laughing or frowning.’ Georgina felt the deep jolt of guilt even as she sympathised with her sister. Nothing good ever came of an affair. And what sort of a woman preyed on a married man?
‘Her daughter, actually.’
‘Oh my God.’ She grimaced. ‘What a prick. I’m so sorry. How did you find out?’
‘I walked in on them.’
‘Oh, that’s too much. I’m sorry, Lissie. I shouldn’t be so flippant. You must be so bloody angry.’
‘Some days I’m angry, some days I’m just sad that thirty years of marriage can end like this.’
‘Of course you are. How are the kids taking it?’
‘Ella’s pretty good. I think Sean’s hoping everything will blow over, but Todd’s moved in with the girl so we’ll see how long that lasts.’
Georgie could see something was about to happen across the tarmac, but Felicity was still talking.
‘The other issue is Ken,’ she continued. ‘I don’t have proof yet, but according to the Limestone rumour mill he’s trying to sell not just Arran Downs but Roseglen as well.’
‘He can’t. Roseglen belongs to Ivy and she’s already said she’s not leaving.’
‘I know, I know, but I think he might be helping himself to money as well.’
‘Seriously? You sure Ivy’s not giving it to him? You know how she’s always indulged him.’
‘It’s possible, but . . .’
The officer was heading their way again and he didn’t look pleased. ‘Sorry, Lissie. I’ve got to go. I’ll call when I’m back at base. Sorry.’