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by Helene Young


  She’d taken enough notes at that meeting to see the truth of it. No way Ivy would believe her, but this was abuse. The same as if Ken had struck his mother. He’d left her powerless and vulnerable. And she and Felicity were complicit because they’d allowed it to happen.

  Never mind all this public debate about euthanasia, what about discussing those still living in their twilight years? The very old were just as vulnerable. It was up to the other members of the family to do their bit. She’d already sent an email out to her circle of friends telling them to check their parents’ finances and get an Enduring Power of Attorney in place. No point in others not learning from their pain. She was grateful that Ivy, for whatever reason, had given her and Lissie that responsibility. She had no idea if Ken was aware of it. More pain to come if he wasn’t and found out.

  The thought of pain made Georgie remember her knees, reminding her of the limits her body was beginning to reach, despite remaining fit and active all these years. A slight twinge in the left one and a click in the right one. So far so good, although it grieved her that no matter how toned her muscles were the layer of skin and connective tissue wasn’t holding up as well.

  Another engine note drifted in and she glanced up. She could see a dust trail a couple of kilometres away. She reached one of the original cattle races, its wood warped and silvered by years in the sun. The flat ground outside still bore the wheel ruts of the B-Double trucks that had collected the livestock year in year out. Those ruts would probably outlive her. She slowed to a stop and rested by a fence post. A snapped strand of barbed wire writhed in the grass like a tortured snake.

  The vehicle was getting closer, the throaty diesel engine purring. As it came into view the white paint of the four-wheel drive and caravan was barely visible through a thick coat of red dirt. The wipers had left a cleared arc on the tinted windscreen. Georgina’s heart skipped a beat. She recognised the smile.

  ‘Bloody hell, Dan,’ she muttered. ‘Did you have to come this early?’ She resisted the temptation to stretch her short singlet down.

  The whole rig slowed to a halt and the window rolled down. ‘Only woman I know who’d be crazy enough to be running out here. Good to see you, Gina.’ Impossibly, his voice had improved with age.

  ‘And only one bloke who’d think it’s okay to turn up before breakfast, Dan Turner.’

  He laughed as she walked over to the car. A prickle of awareness shimmied over her skin. His arm propped on the door was tanned, toned and stretched his black T-shirt. Automatically, she leaned in and feathered a kiss on his cheek. The faintest smell of aftershave or shampoo. Different, something not filled with memories and regret, but still there was the underlying essence of Dan.

  He grinned. ‘Your clothes seem to have shrunk in the wash.’

  ‘Ha.’ She tugged at the top, conscious her stomach was peeking through the gap and it wasn’t as smooth as it used to be. ‘Still a smart arse.’

  He checked his mirrors and turned off the engine, effectively blocking the road. The first thing he did when he got out of the car was stretch. ‘God, no matter how padded the seat, it still puts cricks in my back.’

  Georgina could sympathise. ‘My physio reckons it’s the pilot’s curse. Sitting all day in a lousy seat,’ she said. ‘And now you’re choosing to sit for retirement as well. Sensible. Should help cut back the visits to the physio.’ She sounded sharp, but his nearness confused her.

  His eyes lit up. ‘Ah, sarcasm, such a gentle form of wit.’ He leaned back against the car door. Long shorts ended just above his knees. The T-shirt fitted snuggly. The hiking boots on his feet were worn and there seemed to be streaks of mud on his legs. If there was an ounce of fat on him, Georgie didn’t know where he was hiding it. His hair had turned salt and pepper, but it still fell forwards in a disarming flop. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but his smile was the same with deeper brackets of lines either side. The planes of his face were just as proud, slanted as they’d always been. Middle age suited him. A captain in charge of his world, even if his world had shrunk from a giant aircraft to an oversized caravan that was much bigger than she’d expected.

  ‘How’s your mum?’ he asked.

  ‘A little more amenable maybe, but it’s still the world according to Ivy.’

  ‘So what brought you home in a hurry?’

  ‘Ken. Money seems to have burnt a hole right through his pocket and the Dunmore riches have fallen out somewhere along the way.’

  ‘Ken?’ He pushed his sunglasses up on his head. She’d never forgotten the silvery grey of his eyes. ‘Your narcissistic brother’s lost Ivy’s money? How the hell did he do that?’

  She crossed her arms. ‘I have no bloody idea yet. But there’s nothing left to pay for her care and she’s getting too old to live alone.’

  ‘You haven’t strung him up by his thumbs?’

  ‘Haven’t been home long enough. Lucky there’s no ammunition in Charlie’s shotgun.’

  ‘I can help with that,’ he said with a nod to the rear of the car.

  ‘You’ve taken up shooting? Since when?’

  ‘A single man has to have a hobby, Gina.’ His smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  Embarrassment forced the words from her before she could stop them. ‘That would be recently single. Did your last girlfriend not like the idea of a van?’

  His look made her feel petty and she ducked her head. ‘That was rude of me. Sorry.’

  ‘Apology accepted. So what’s new with you? Still saving the refugees of the world?’

  ‘I may have saved my last one.’

  ‘You aren’t seriously going to retire. You’ll die of boredom.’

  ‘I could take up knitting, or lawn bowls.’

  ‘Yeah, or mountain bike riding, kite surfing or diving with sharks. You’re an adrenaline junkie.’

  ‘Maybe the thrill’s worn off,’ she said, plonking herself beside him against the car. ‘Maybe there’s a biological age when the brain finally registers danger. Maybe I’ve reached that age.’

  ‘You reckon?’ He eyed her up and down again. ‘I don’t know many women your age who still run marathons.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I won’t be doing that again. The last one nearly killed me. I’m into yoga now.’

  ‘How very Zen. But you’re not cut out to sit at home. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I have no idea and that’s driving me crazy as well.’

  ‘Maybe you need an adventure.’ He nodded at the van. ‘Plenty of adrenaline when you get bogged on a creek crossing and the rain’s bucketing down and you know it’s only a matter of time before the floodwaters start to rise. Pressure’s even greater than a simulator check for the A380.’

  ‘And that’s why this is wearing its coat of mud so proudly?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep. In the middle of a drought, the likes of which we haven’t seen for a century, the one and only thunderstorm that’s rolled through all season dumps its load on me in Jericho Creek, forty kilometres from here. I’ve decided the name was prophetic and I should have realised before I set up camp.’

  ‘So how did you get out?’

  ‘A lot of hard work.’ He turned up his palms. Burst blisters formed a line across the fleshy pads of his hands.

  ‘Oh my God, Dan.’ She took his hands in hers, peering at the damage. Without her glasses she couldn’t see if there were cuts as well. Was that tremor her or him? ‘Mate, that’s awful. How on earth are you driving?’

  ‘Carefully,’ he replied with his quick grin, withdrawing his hands.

  ‘Ha. You need to get them dressed or you’ll get an infection. I didn’t know it even rained yesterday.’ Georgina could feel the heat from him across the gap, the flex of his muscles as he moved. Nothing had changed. She’d always been able to tell when he’d walked into a room whether she could see him or not.

  ‘One storm, just for me.’ He straightened and dusted his shorts down, albeit with a gentle touch.

  ‘You’d better come back for breakfas
t.’

  ‘Thank God, I thought you’d never ask.’ He opened his door again. ‘You want a lift?’

  ‘I’m a bit hot and sweaty.’

  ‘That makes two of us. Jump in.’

  She walked to the other side. ‘Flash car.’ She ran her hand over the leather trim as she settled in the seat. ‘I didn’t picture you in a family car.’

  ‘I needed something decent to tow the van and this handles dirt like a dream.’

  ‘It also puts cricks in your back.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s probably because I slept in my swag last night.’

  ‘You have a swag?’

  ‘Of course. The van’s got the mod cons, but there’s something about sleeping under the stars.’

  ‘Hang on,’ she said, turning sideways in the seat. ‘You hated camping. I remember taking you to the mustering camp once and you had no idea what to do.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I was out of my element. Surrounded by all those real men sporting tatts and muscles on muscles and all riding horses. I was the city slicker from hell.’

  ‘Yep, you were.’

  ‘You took the piss out of me at every opportunity. I’m pretty sure you were responsible for those large beetles that turned up in my swag.’ He sounded amused.

  She laughed. ‘And that was the year you put Vegemite under the doorhandles of my car.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Took you ages to get it out of your hair and clothes.’

  ‘And I hated Vegemite!’

  He started the car and looked across at her. ‘It’s good to see you, Gina.’

  She could only nod. A lump had formed in her throat.

  He drove as he always had, right arm propped on the door, steering with his fingertips. Relaxed, happy and looking like a cross between Liam Neeson and George Clooney, but with a hell of a lot more hair on his head.

  ‘So what are you going to do about Ken and Ivy?’

  ‘The first thing was to get Ivy to admit something was wrong. She finally caved in and is requesting the family company be dismantled so the properties stand alone again. Felicity, as usual, is keeping the peace, and I am contemplating ripping Ken’s head off.’

  ‘Isn’t it time for a truce?’

  ‘Never. Especially after what he’s done to Mum.’

  ‘Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call her anything but Ivy. Careful, you’re mellowing.’

  ‘Maybe it’s finally occurred to me that, for better or worse, she’s the only mother I’m ever going to have.’ She stared out the window, chewing her lip. ‘And there’s a fair chance she’s not going to be around much longer.’

  ‘It’s tough watching them slow down.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She glanced across at his profile edged against the rising sun. ‘Sorry about your dad.’

  Dan shrugged. ‘Nothing anyone can do. Some days I catch sight of the man he once was. I understand why his sister won’t come and visit him, but even if he does think I’m a stranger, it’s better to see him than no longer have him at all. I was going to wait until he went before I started my travels, but then I realised it could be years away. He’s in good hands.’

  ‘And it still breaks your heart.’

  ‘Yep.’

  Georgie heard the catch in his voice and let it be. He wasn’t a man prone to displays of emotion, which was handy because she didn’t do emotion either, and all this fluttering in her stomach every time she glanced at his hands was ridiculous. He’s not here so you can jump his bones, she thought to herself. But . . . She sighed. There were worse things that could happen.

  ‘I will not do any more exercises, Georgina,’ Ivy protested. ‘I’ve already done the ones my physio gave me.’ Three days of hectoring and even Dan hadn’t managed to keep Georgina in check. It was still four long days before Felicity would be back home for good.

  ‘I’m just saying, if you don’t use your legs, you won’t be able to live here alone.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t realise that? Do you think I like being like this?’ Ivy’s chest tightened and her legs were screaming, the joints worn out and muscles wasted. ‘I know you’d rather see me locked up, someone else’s problem, but I will not be shuffled off to some dreadful home just to suit you!’

  Georgina seemed to have temporarily lost the power of speech and Ivy made her escape, out of the lounge room and down the hallway. Her knees trembled with each step and her arms ached with the strain. She made it to her bedroom, collapsed on the walker and struggled to close the door. Tears, hot and salty, flooded her lips, her breaths coming in short gasps.

  God forbid she ever admit that Georgina was right. Felicity had been saying the same thing a little more gently for six months, but they weren’t the ones who would be locked in a place with strangers, no choice about what food to eat or not eat, no privacy, no dignity, and nothing but a tiny cell of a room to call home. How could anyone look forward to that?

  In that instant Ivy hated Charlie for leaving her, for going so quickly she couldn’t say goodbye, couldn’t mend the hurt of their last argument. And now this, to find betrayal in her own home, her daughter trying to force her into a home. She was bereft when she’d rather have been angry.

  A knock on the door dragged her back to the present.

  ‘Ivy, it’s Dan. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, dear.’ She realised she was sobbing. The words wouldn’t come.

  ‘Ivy, I’m opening the door, okay?’ Dan’s head appeared and she could only nod, as she took little sips of air.

  ‘You need to sit up. Here, let me help you.’ He was beside her then, one hand on her back and one on her shoulder, straightening her, taking the load. He kept his eyes trained on hers. He had the nicest grey eyes. ‘Breathe with me, Ivy, one in, hold it for a moment and out.’

  She followed his lead, desperate to ease the pain in her chest, to draw in enough air to hold the dark spots in front of her eyes at bay. His hand on her back was doing circles, soothing, smoothing away some of the tightness. His low voice, lovely and warm, kept count of the breaths in and out until she could finally force a tiny smile.

  ‘Thank you. I’m fine,’ she croaked.

  ‘No, you’re not, but you have one indomitable spirit. Never give in, never say die.’

  ‘Ha.’ She tried to wave his comments away, but her hand wouldn’t respond.

  ‘Gina’s worried about you.’

  ‘That’ll be a first.’

  Dan smiled. ‘Maybe she’s never had any idea how to say she’s worried. And maybe she still has no idea. Once an airline captain always an airline captain, Ivy. She’s used to giving orders.’

  ‘But you’re not like that,’ she said, her voice stronger.

  ‘I like to get my own way, and I have more than an opinion on most things, just a different way of saying it. Sorry to barge in on you. I was out at the van and heard the yelling. It’s not easy when parts of your body start giving up the ghost.’

  Ivy eyed his lean frame. ‘What do you know about bodies giving up the ghost? You’re fit as a mallee bull.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. Just take it easy, hey. You okay now?’

  ‘Yes.’ She managed a firmer nod. ‘Thank you.’

  He straightened, hit her with one of those smiles that melted any resistance, and closed the door quietly behind him. She strained to hear as he joined Georgina who was now in the kitchen.

  ‘Maybe you should try her again in her wheelchair,’ he said. ‘Let her learn how to push herself. I know you mean well, but she’s not going to do exercises if she’s bludgeoned into them.’

  Georgina’s reply was lost in the ringing of the phone. Ivy fumbled in her seat pocket for the handset and answered it as brightly as she could.

  ‘Mrs Dunmore, just the lady I needed to speak to,’ a familiar voice said. ‘It’s Myles, Myles Hargrave, the jeweller in Brisbane.’

  ‘Myles, how lovely to hear from you.’ She and Charlie had done business with them over the years when money permitted. A family jeweller, a
lthough Myles was the last of the line. ‘What can I help you with today?’

  ‘I was wondering if you still had the original case for the Rolex. We have a buyer and since it’s such a collector’s item he’s keen to have the case as well.’

  ‘The Rolex.’ Ivy clutched her chest as the pain bit deep.

  ‘The one Ken brought in for you to sell?’ He sounded uncertain.

  ‘Right, of course, Charlie’s watch.’

  ‘Yes, his name is engraved on it. Ken did say not to bother you, but he’s not returned my call and I thought you might know.’

  ‘Of course.’ She hesitated for only a second. ‘Dear Myles, would I be a stupid old lady if I told you I’ve changed my mind? I don’t want to sell the watch now.’

  ‘No, no, of course not. I remember how careful you were with it when it had to have a new strap fitted. I was surprised, to be honest, that you’d consider selling it. I thought Ken would keep it.’

  ‘The drought, you know,’ she replied. ‘But I think we’ve turned the corner so, if you wouldn’t mind, can you courier it back to me? I’m so sorry to put you to the trouble. I’ll let Ken know. And I’ll pay, of course.’

  ‘Not at all. You’ve sent so much business our way in the last few years. And the items have always been such good quality.’

  The conversation finished and the dogs started barking as she heard a car pull up. She leaned forwards on her walker, suddenly giddy with vertigo. She hoped it wasn’t Ken. She couldn’t face him knowing he’d stolen more than money from her.

  ‘Hey Wexy, Lady, how are you two doing?’ Ella’s voice settled her nerves. Her lovely Ella-Bella wouldn’t pick on her or harass her. She’d push her through the house, making ridiculous car noises the whole time. Ivy pondered Myles’ revelations and pressed her lips together, willing the pounding of her heart to ease. The thought that had been growing, building like a thunderhead, reared up again.

  She had become powerless. It was a terrifying feeling. It wasn’t just about leaving a home she loved, or losing her independence or any of the other things she complained about. It was far more elemental. She was terrified of no longer making decisions for herself, no longer controlling her world.

 

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