by Helene Young
Felicity placed a cup under the espresso machine, tamped down the grounds and turned up the pressure as she filled in Georgina. Her sister had always been a good listener.
Georgina clicked her tongue at each new revelation. No matter how big the feeling of relief that had washed through her at her sister’s return, Felicity knew it wasn’t going to be easy sharing her thoughts with her. Patterns of childhood reared up like summer storms full of thunder and lightning.
Little Lissie had always been the baby sister who, according to her siblings, was destined to become a wife and mother and do some nursing to pay the bills. Georgina used to mock that Felicity was Ivy’s spare child to turn into a good little CWA member. Being a grazier didn’t rate high on Georgina’s career list either.
To burn out trying was not Felicity’s way. To Georgina, it was second nature. Felicity was more an observer of life, whereas Georgina gulped it down in great bites, devouring each new experience.
Meanwhile, Ken strolled through life in shiny new boots someone else had paid for. His ego filled every square centimetre of him. He was the Dunmores’ firstborn son and lord of the manor. People loved him. If only!
Felicity placed the coffee beside her sister and gave her a tired smile.
‘Thanks.’ Georgie took a sip and breathed out. ‘Bliss. You’ve always been a genius with coffee. Got something to eat with it?’ she added, pulling Felicity’s computer across to her. ‘Anything from Ken here?’ she asked, scrolling down the emails.
And just like that they were back on old footings: Georgina giving the orders and little Lissie doing her bidding. Felicity gritted her teeth, but then closed her eyes and counted to three before replying.
‘Actually, I’m just heading out to a hair appointment so feel free to raid the cupboards and the fridge.’
‘What?’ Georgina’s gaze swept over her hair. Felicity knew she wouldn’t be able to miss the grey stripe down her part. ‘But I just got here.’
‘And I had no idea you were arriving today. It’s a . . .’ Felicity didn’t need to explain that it was a gift from Paula. She sounded like a charity case who couldn’t even organise a haircut. ‘It takes ages to get an appointment. Sorry. I’m sure you need to sleep, anyway.’
‘But I thought we’d get stuck into this before I crashed.’
‘I know, Georgie, but I have a prior commitment and I start work at six tonight.’ They may have just set a new record for being at loggerheads in less than ten minutes, Felicity thought.
‘Right, sorry. I should have phoned ahead. I just thought . . .’
Felicity filled in the blanks. Her sister thought she’d ride in on a white horse, solve the problem, pat Felicity on the head and ride out again.
Felicity’s computer pinged and they both looked at the inbox. Ken again.
Felicity, go back to nursing and leave the business to someone who knows what he’s doing. Mum’s in safe hands.
‘Bastard,’ muttered Georgina, as she swung it around to type. ‘Shitty little bastard.’
Ken, I’m home now and Felicity and I will be taking over Ivy’s business affairs as well as her personal finances. Please forward through all relevant documents to save me the trouble of having to get a court order. Rest assured we will get to the bottom of this and will be engaging forensic accountants, lawyers and the police as required.
Love
Georgina.
She hit send before Felicity could stop her.
‘What the hell did you lob that grenade for?’ Felicity demanded, sweat filming on her forehead.
‘He needs to know that I’m home and this bullshit needs to stop.’
‘You’ve essentially declared war.’
‘So now he knows where the battlelines are drawn.’
‘Dammit, Georgina. Mum’s not going to be happy. We need to talk about things like this before we act.’
‘You have to go to the hairdressers, apparently.’
Felicity glared at her sister. ‘We’ll talk when I get back.’ She slammed the laptop lid down, narrowly missing Georgina’s fingers, then tucked it under one arm and stalked off to her room. Georgina was muttering behind her.
Good, Felicity thought. Stop trying to run the show when you don’t even know all the facts. Her hands were rock steady this time. She’d never stood up to her sister and while the angst was immense it actually felt kind of liberating. Why hadn’t she done this before?
As she pulled up at the hairdressers, barely on time, her phone started ringing.
‘Ella! How are you, darling?’
‘Oh, Mum,’ her daughter wailed, almost incoherent with tears.
‘Honey, what’s wrong?’
‘They sacked me!’
‘No.’ She slumped against the seat, then forced herself to keep moving. ‘Talk to me.’
She locked the door and listened to her daughter as she walked.
‘I’m very sorry to inform you, Mrs Dunmore,’ the man from the bank said in his singsong voice, ‘you have indeed signed the document removing you as one of the two signatories on the account for Dunmore Holdings. Kenneth Dunmore is the sole signatory now.’
‘And the mortgage,’ she tried to sound strong, grateful she was already sitting down in the office. ‘You said you’d look into that for me too.’
‘Yes, the new mortgage is in your name with Roseglen listed as surety. The money from that line of credit was drawn down two weeks ago to the business account and then withdrawn. All these documents seem to have the same date. Perhaps you’ve forgotten signing them.’
‘I see.’ And she did. She just wished she didn’t.
‘Is there anything else I can help you with today?’ he asked.
‘No, thank you. That will be all for now,’ she replied. The phone rattled as she placed it back in its cradle. Almost immediately, it rang.
‘Hi, Mum, what’s going on?’ Ken asked before she could even say hello. ‘Lissie’s emailed me demanding the accounts for the property. Why on earth does she think I’ve got them? Besides, she has no head for business. They’d be meaningless to her.’
‘Lissie has far more common sense than you’ve ever given her credit for,’ Ivy retorted sharply.
He scoffed. ‘I don’t think so, Mum. She talked you into letting Trethowan get a toe in the door. Now he won’t leave and he’s taking advantage of you.’
‘Mitch doesn’t have to leave, Ken. Roseglen is still mine, you know, even if you tricked me into handing the company account to you.’
‘Tricked you?’ He sighed. ‘Oh, Mum, you’re forgetting things. We talked about this. You need to tell Felicity you’re not remembering things anymore. Then she wouldn’t worry about stuff like the accounts.’
‘Son, you and I both know you put that authorisation sheet in among the pile of documents and I signed it without realising what it was. You even hurried me up so I wouldn’t read them all. I could go to the police, you know.’
His laugh chilled her. ‘You could, Mum. And we both know where that would lead. You’d miss seeing the girls and the grandkids again.’
The hot burn of tears blinded her. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, disgusted at the pleading note in her voice.
‘We both know the answer to that, don’t we, Ivy.’ The line went dead and it took Ivy several minutes to gather herself.
Felicity had certainly stirred up a green ants’ nest. What had got into the girl? Ivy had told her there was no problem, she had just forgotten she’d paid some bills. And Mitch and his cattle wouldn’t be leaving Roseglen. She could have settled that easily enough with Ken. He had no interest in checking the bores and riding the boundaries. Without Mitch, the property really would fail. Ken knew that, even if he didn’t like it. At least she’d started things in motion yesterday. She would make sure her will was in order.
She dialled her neighbour as she glanced out the window across the paddocks.
‘Hello, Mitch, it’s Ivy.’
‘Hi, Mrs D. What’s the we
ather doing over there?’ It was a long-running joke that could make her smile even at time like this.
‘No rain, I’m afraid. Still dry as a gingernut biscuit.’ She hesitated a fraction then hurried on. ‘Listen, I thought you should know that Ken’s very upset with me. I doubt he’ll come around and have a go at you, but if you see him in town and he’s got a thundercloud hanging over him, then steer clear.’
‘Right. Thundercloud, huh? We could do with the rain,’ he said, making her smile again. ‘What happened? Doesn’t he like the idea of Felicity moving home?’
‘No, no. We haven’t told him. You know what it’s like for sons dealing with ageing parents.’
‘Yeah, but I wrestled my old man into the safety of a retirement village for his final years.’
‘And I’m doing just fine at home, thank you. What are you up to today?’ Speaking to him eased the throbbing in her temples.
‘I have to do something about a mustering pilot. The last one’s given notice to go and fly for some mob in WA.’
‘That’s not good timing.’
‘No, not really, but something will come up. Always does.’
‘It’s a shame young Ella can’t come back. She always says you were the best boss she’s ever had.’
‘She’s only had two bosses in her flying time, Mrs D. No need to blow smoke up my backside.’
They both laughed.
‘You need anything doing around there? I can drop by this arvo?’ he asked.
‘Well, the dogs are looking a little bored.’
He laughed again. ‘I’ll come around later. First I’ll take the old dogs for a walk and then I’ll have a chat with the old chook.’
‘That would be lovely. I’ll put the kettle on at four.’
‘Oh. And did that young woman find you yesterday? Kate someone from Cairns?’
‘Yes, she did. She said you were most helpful.’
‘Any time. See you later, Mrs D.’
She sat holding the phone after he hung up. Sinbad lay beside her. ‘Now all I need is for Felicity to be home and everything will be fine.’
She dialled again, smiling this time. They didn’t call her the Queen Bee at the CWA for nothing.
‘Hello. Georgina Dunmore.’
She squinted at the phone. Heavens! Had she called the wrong number?
‘Hello? Hello?’
‘Georgina? It’s Mum. What are you doing at Felicity’s?’
‘Answering the cry for help, Ivy. Coming running at top speed.’ The tone wasn’t playful.
‘Oh, I see. You’re helping Felicity.’
‘And you, apparently?’
‘I told Felicity there was no problem.’
‘Excellent. I’ll be in and out before you know it, then.’
‘I didn’t think you’d come home.’ She tried not to sound needy, but wasn’t sure she pulled it off.
‘I came home for Lissie.’
Old wounds were still raw. The honesty between them had always been sharp. ‘You might be surprised at the spine your sister’s growing. She threw Todd out and no one expected that.’
‘Yeah, ten years too late. I would have thrown him out long ago.’
‘You wouldn’t have married him in the first place.’
‘No.’
There was silence as they both remembered the man Georgina did marry. Dan was a pilot too, a fine-looking man with a high forehead and smiling eyes. Ivy always thought he was too soft for Georgina. That she wore the pants. Turns out she didn’t.
‘How is Dan?’
‘He’s good. About to retire. Last time I spoke to him I told him he needed to get a life. Perhaps he was listening for once.’
‘He was a good man.’
‘Still is.’
Was that a wistful note in Georgina’s voice? She didn’t do regret. ‘Where’s he living?’
‘Sydney, but he’s bought a van. Maybe he’ll turn into a grey nomad.’
‘You tell him to stop in at Roseglen and stay for afternoon tea.’
Georgina laughed. ‘You were so bloody upset when we split up.’
Ivy was not going to revisit that day. ‘Where’s Felicity? I didn’t think she was working until tonight?’
‘Hairdressers. Very important, apparently.’
‘She was looking old when she was here the other week. But she’s lost some weight. The stress of the divorce, I suppose. Is your hair still clipped short?’
‘Yep, and it’s all grey now. Suits me just fine.’
And it would. Georgina’s strong jaw and angled cheekbones would look good until the day she died. With clear blue eyes that looked to the horizon, she’d been turning heads since she could walk. Presence, Ivy call it.
‘Will I see you or is this just a flying visit?’ She held her breath.
‘I guess you will. This nonsense with Ken has to stop, Ivy.’
‘I told Lissie it was between your brother and me.’
‘And it will be between Lissie and me and Ken when it goes to hell in a handbasket. We need to discuss a few things while we’re all on the same continent.’
‘Right.’ She knew better than to start an argument over the phone. ‘I’ll see you then. Felicity said she’d be up this week.’
‘Then we’re all coming home.’ Which meant Ivy had less than a week to line up her ducks and finish what she’d started. Before she could reply Georgina hung up.
Was it true that you hurt the ones you loved the most? Her pregnancy with Georgina was difficult from the start. Morning sickness didn’t mix well with a fractious eight-month-old and Ken could cry until he threw up. Not to mention the weight of the grief that never lifted. They’d barely buried Dottie and little Albert and Ernie when she fell pregnant with Georgina. Then the first anniversary of that terrible loss brought more grief when Old Mr Dunmore collapsed and died several weeks later. It was so much for Charlie to bear, yet he’d kept them all going, even his mum. That once towering pillar of the community could barely remember to brush her hair unless Charlie or Ivy cajoled her into it.
How could one man be so strong, so enduring, so patient? She missed his big hands rubbing the complaining muscles in her shoulders, missed seeing tan lines like pale feathery strokes appear around his eyes and mouth as his outdoor squint relaxed.
Ivy didn’t remember the thirty hours of pain before Georgina’s birth, but she did remember the euphoria at the first sight of her little girl, all purple and bloody from the battle and furious, it seemed, with being thrust so rudely into the light. But then the worried frowns and the warm, wet feeling on her thighs penetrated her exhausted brain.
By the time she was well enough to see her baby again Charlie had claimed Georgina as his own. With calloused hands that had caught calves from bellowing heifers and pulled foals from straining mares he gently, reverently, cradled his daughter.
She saw adoration in his eyes as he gazed at the squalling bundle, so small and fragile against his bulk. And she watched Charlie Dunmore fall in love all over again.
A blinding flash of irrational anger had engulfed her. How dare her husband have eyes only for their daughter? After everything she’d been through to give him that child. Charlie had smiled down at her and remorse had flooded in. But it was too late. Jealousy had set up home in her heart. It may never have left.
That stay in hospital was overwhelming. Everything she did was scrutinised. The way she held Georgina, swaddled her, the time it took her to change nappies. It was a full month before she finally stood in the doorway of their little cottage with Ken on her hip and Georgina nestled in Charlie’s arms. The sapping heat and the flies still lingered, a late taste of summer, but home, with its tiny kitchen and lean-to laundry, had never looked so welcome.
‘We’re a proper family now,’ Charlie had said, smiling down at her. ‘You, me and the kids.’
But she hadn’t accounted for the black fog that rolled in and clouded her mind, leaving her incapable of making a decision, even one as simple as which
child to deal with first. The squeaky wheel won and that was usually Ken. She wasn’t deliberately ignoring her tiny daughter, but the child looked at her with eyes that seemed to mock. Georgina didn’t sleep or eat when she was meant to. She cried when Ivy picked her up and smiled when Charlie appeared.
Old Mrs D was lost in her own dark world. They moved into the main house, the homestead, to look after her. But it was Charlie who did more and more. Ivy could see the bags of fatigue under his eyes as he fought to hold his family and the property together, but still her tears fell at inopportune times. The relentless rage could build when Ken screamed until she wanted to shake him.
The day that nine-month-old Georgina rose on her chubby little legs was burned into Ivy’s brain. She tried now to turn away from the memory, but perhaps the ghosts of Roseglen thought it was time she faced what she did.
Her little girl had hauled herself up using the carved legs of the kitchen table for support while Ivy stirred a pot on the stove, one eye on Kenneth out in the sandpit while Old Mrs D slumbered on the verandah. Ivy heard a funny little cry and turned to see Georgina set off across the kitchen, determination in her fierce frown. She stopped beside her and gripped her mother’s skirt in her fist as a smile bloomed across her face, her eyes filled with delight as she looked up for approval.
Ivy knew she should have been proud of her. She felt shame now at the cruelty of the memory. It was so heartless of her not to reward that effort, but she was frazzled from earlier squabbles and the horror of chasing two mobile children had sharpened her temper.
She’d grabbed Georgina, marched into the bedroom, and deposited her in her cot, securing the railing to keep her in. Her howls followed Ivy to the kitchen, where the sauce was in danger of burning on the stove.
The thump and scream that echoed from the bedroom minutes later sent her running. Georgina had unlatched the railing and now lay on the floor wailing, but Ivy didn’t doubt it was as much to do with rage as pain. The baby batted her hands away as she tried to check her for broken bones. She pushed to her feet again, defiance in every angry tear as she headed for the door before stumbling to her knees to crawl again. How could a girl be so precocious?