At Home with the Templetons

by Monica McInerney

  She re-entered Tom Donovan. Added cricket Australia. She finally found him on the sixth page of entries, a passing mention in the biographies section of an out-of-date online cricket magazine. This was him. This was definitely him. She recognised his birth date, his education record. Knowing it was going to hurt, but now unable to stop, she clicked on the link and held her breath. The first thing she saw was a photo, bad quality and nine years old, but it was him, his dark eyes, dark hair, smiling at the camera. She read the first two lines of the paragraph of text beside it, then turned quickly away, shutting the laptop, breaking the connection. She wasn’t quick enough. She’d seen it. There had been a mention of his place in the cricket academy and then the sentence: A promising career cut short —

  She didn’t need to read on. A promising career cut short by an accident. A promising career cut short by Gracie Templeton. A promising life destroyed because of her.

  What did you expect? the voice told her. What had she expected? What did she think she’d find? His own website? Photos of him playing basketball, skiing, competing in international wheelchair games, rising above his injuries, successful and happy again?

  One thing was now clear. There was no way she could try to find him while she was back at Templeton Hall, back in Australia. What was there left to say that she hadn’t said in each one of those letters he’d ignored? ‘I’m sorry – again – for ruining your life?’ She had no right to expect anything from him, be it anger, understanding or forgiveness. She’d relinquished any claim on him the moment she’d driven into that truck.

  She now regretted telling Hope she’d go with her. Was it too late to change her mind? She considered it, then decided she had to go through with it, for Hope’s sake as much as her own. She had never forgotten the unexpected kindness Hope had shown her in the months after the accident. Somehow looking up the internet entries made it simpler, though. She would now just fly in, stay with Hope for the week, then fly out again. And this time, perhaps she could leave the past behind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

  ‘Nina! Quick, come here!’

  Nina ran into the living room of her inner-city Melbourne home, expecting to find Hilary in danger, or more worryingly, her niece in danger. Instead, both Hilary and her ten-year-old daughter, Lucy, were sitting in front of the television set. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Hilary pointed at the TV set. ‘Quick. Look. That woman there.’

  Nina looked. It was a children’s TV program, all technicolour and cheery voices, with the presenter, a thin, smiling, red-haired woman in her early thirties dividing her time between speaking directly to camera or to a blue-haired sock puppet on her right hand.

  ‘That’s right, Bobbie!’ she was saying in a chirpy English accent. ‘Today is orange day! So let’s think of all the orange things we can. What’s that, Bobbie?’ She leaned down and pressed her ear close to the sock puppet’s sewn-on mouth. ‘That’s right! Oranges are orange! And we know a song about that, don’t we?’

  ‘Thanks, Hilary,’ Nina said. ‘I’d completely forgotten today was orange day.’

  ‘You don’t recognise her?’

  ‘The woman or the puppet?’

  ‘The woman. The puppet’s a boy. Hold on, I’ll turn down the sound, that music’s distracting.’ The woman on screen looked even stranger without sound, swaying from side to side and smiling in an over-animated way at a sock.

  ‘Give up?’ Hilary asked.

  Nina nodded.

  ‘It’s Audrey Templeton.’

  Nina went still. ‘How can it be?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it is. Her name was in the opening credits.’

  ‘We were looking for SpongeBob SquarePants on the cable channels and this Bobbie show came on instead,’ Lucy said.

  Nina couldn’t take her eyes off the screen now. ‘Is it an English show?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hilary said, as two possum puppets appeared beside the sock. ‘Would an English show have animals like that? Does it look like her? Your Audrey?’

  ‘She’s not “my Audrey”. I haven’t seen her in sixteen years. And I’ve no idea what she’d look like now.’

  Hilary picked up something in Nina’s tone. ‘Sorry. Do you want me to turn it off?’

  ‘No!’ Lucy said, moving closer to the screen. ‘That puppet’s funny.’

  Hilary left her daughter with the remote control and followed Nina into the kitchen. ‘Can I help with dinner?’

  Nina shook her head as she moved the salad bowl into the fridge. ‘I’m nearly ready.’

  ‘Sorry, Nina.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For calling you in just now. I should have just switched off the TV and not mentioned it. It’s probably not even her.’

  Nina was now busy at the stove, checking saucepans. ‘It might be. She always wanted to be a performer.’

  ‘She’s the one who stopped speaking, isn’t she? Good to see she got her voice back. Shame about the mute sock, though.’ Hilary grinned at her sister. ‘Nearly made you smile. Come on. It won’t crack your face.’

  ‘That is so childish.’

  ‘Don’t get uppity. What is it, Nina?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Come on. Tell me. You’ve been jumpy as a cat since we got here.’

  Nina took a seat, glancing towards the living room. Lucy was now standing in front of the TV, dancing and singing along.

  ‘It’s just strange for that to happen today. To see a Templeton on TV like that.’

  ‘Strange because?’

  Nina hesitated. ‘I had a letter this week –’

  ‘From one of the Templetons? After all these years?’

  She nodded. ‘From Hope.’

  ‘Hope wrote to you? Evil drunken Hope? Why? To order some Australian wine?’

  ‘To invite me to spend a week at Templeton Hall, actually. Next month. All expenses paid.’

  Hilary started to laugh. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ She looked closely at her sister. ‘You’re not joking. Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to say about it.’

  ‘I’d have thought that was fairly obvious. “Hilary, out of the blue I’ve heard from a family I never want to see again and I’ve been invited to have a holiday in the one place on earth I never want to go again.” ’

  ‘Remind me to hire you as a speechwriter some time, would you?’

  ‘Why on earth would she invite you there? For a week of solitude?’

  ‘No. I’d have company.’

  ‘She’s going too?’ Hilary laughed. ‘This gets even better. Just what you’d enjoy. A cosy reunion with Hope —’

  ‘Hope and Gracie.’

  ‘Gracie?’ At Nina’s nod, Hilary gave a slow whistle. ‘Oh, my God. I have to see this letter.’

  Nina went to her room and returned with an official-looking envelope. Hilary opened it. There was a typed note on letterhead from a solicitor in Castlemaine. Attached to it was a long handwritten note on lilac paper. The handwriting was large, the letters looped and flamboyant. Hilary had trouble reading it.

  ‘Let me help,’ Nina said. She took it from her sister and began to read aloud.

  ‘Dear Nina, this letter will come as a surprise, I know, and possibly an unwelcome one, but I do hope you will read through to the end and consider what I have to say. I am writing to invite you to join me – at my expense – for a week at Templeton Hall. I have also invited my sister and her entire family, but to date it is only Gracie who is able to join me.

  ‘Over the past twelve years, since I was given the grace of sobriety, I have had the cause and opportunity to reflect on many aspects of my life, and in particular, reflect on times where I caused pain to others through my own selfish behaviour. I have made it my mission to make amends wherever possible. It has been a difficult and lonely road at times, but a journey I am honoured and humbled to take. Many times my approaches have been re
buffed and I accept that. Every day I give thanks that I have had the opportunity to not just change my own behaviour, but to change my life, and I cannot expect others who remain damaged or hurt by or suspicious of me and my motives to join me openheartedly on my journey.’

  ‘Good God. What new-age dictionary has she swallowed?’

  Nina kept reading.

  ‘I have many people to thank for giving me the support I need to be emotionally brave and mentally fearless, and still more to whom I feel an apology is necessary. I have taken what I think of as an inventory of my life, and the period at Templeton Hall still remains a time of sorrow and shame on my part. Tragic circumstances – the death of an adored life partner – have left me with the silver lining of unexpected wealth and I see this as a sign that more action is needed: strong, firm, generous action on my part. Sometimes the only way to heal is to return, and this is what I hope to do now. The time at the Hall so many years ago was, I believe, life changing for each of us in different ways, as events occurred, rifts formed and in regard to my dear niece Gracie and your beloved son Thomas, relationships were established that led, sadly, to traumatic outcomes.’

  Nina broke off from reading then. ‘He’s never been Thomas.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Go on,’ Hilary said.

  ‘This is not the time or place to expand on my beliefs, but I truly feel there are deep wounds from that time that need to be healed. I take full responsibility for my own role in that damage, I wish to assure you. I have attempted to make amends with each member of the family before now, but geography and circumstance have worked against me and continue to do so. Nevertheless, I look forward to my time there with Gracie in those familiar and pleasant surroundings, and pray that we will both find some peace and healing.

  ‘I have instructed my solicitor in Castlemaine to liaise with you should you accept my invitation too – as I dearly hope you will. I will of course cover – in advance – any travel costs you may incur should you decide to make this journey with me.’

  Nina looked up. ‘Then there are names and phone numbers of who I should ring if I accept her offer.’

  ‘If you accept her offer? You’re actually considering it? Have you lost your mind?’ Hilary took the letter and scanned the contents once more as Nina silently watched her. ‘As I said, she’s either swallowed more than her fair share of self-help books or she’s started her own religious cult. And why on earth would you ever want to see Gracie again, after the way she abandoned Tom?’ Hilary folded the pages with firm movements. ‘Put it in the bin, Nina. It’s a letter from a ranting, raving mess and the solicitor had no right to send it to you. How did he know where you were anyway?’

  ‘Jenny told him.’

  ‘Jenny in Castlemaine?’ Hilary frowned. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The solicitor told me when I rang him about the letter.’

  ‘You’ve already rung him? You really are considering this? Nina, what could you possibly have to say to any of the Templetons? It’ll just bring everything back, open it all up again. Don’t you remember, you made me swear that I would never let you have anything to do with any of them again. Any of them, Nina. Don’t fall for Hope’s games. For heaven’s sake, it’s not as if you have anything to feel guilty about, is it?’

  Nina hesitated for just a second. ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘Then ignore her and her crazy letter,’ Hilary said firmly. ‘Matter closed.’

  Across the other side of Melbourne, in a tall glass building overlooking the Docklands, the newspaper editorial department was a bustle of sound, flickering computer screens, wall-mounted TV sets and phone conversations. Glass-walled cubicles lined the walls and a cluster of open-plan desks took up the centre space. At a desk in a corner of the sports department, a dark-haired man sat in front of his screen, phone tucked in under his chin as he typed. His desk was a clutter of printed emails, lists of team names, playing schedules and old coffee cups.

  ‘Welcome back, stranger,’ a young smiling woman said as she walked past his desk. ‘All right for some, sunning themselves in the West Indies for a week.’ She deposited a pile of mail in front of him. ‘Shred these or open them, all old news by now.’

  He smiled his thanks, and began to open them, still talking into the phone. The envelope with the Castlemaine postmark was third in the pile. He pulled out a lilac-coloured letter with a compliments slip attached, glanced at it, then looked more closely. Moments later, he hung up and kept reading. The phone beside him rang once, twice, three times. He ignored it until, eventually, it stopped.

  After reading through the handwritten letter a second time, he slowly folded it, pushed it back into the envelope and then into his pocket. He sat for a moment, his hand resting in his dark curls, staring at the computer screen in silence.

  The phone began to ring again. He ignored it once more. Instead, he stood up, reached for the stick leaning against the side of his desk and walked out of the office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hope leaned back in her chair, took a sip of her mineral water and watched as Eleanor read through the itineraries she’d brought over. ‘We’re both flying business class, of course. Gracie seemed quite pleased about that.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll enjoy it. That’s very generous of you,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘You don’t need to completely overwhelm me with gratitude, Eleanor. Just a speck would be nice. A glimmer, even.’

  Eleanor put the itinerary down. ‘Why are you doing this, Hope?’

  Hope sighed extravagantly. ‘First Charlotte, now you. What is it with this family? Can’t someone try to repay the many kindnesses shown to her over the years without being submitted to the third degree?’

  Eleanor held up her hand. ‘I do appreciate what you’re doing for Gracie, Hope. What I don’t understand is why you’re still going back when only Gracie is able to come with you. If it’s about making amends with us, why don’t you just change the location?’

  ‘Eleanor, I can’t move on or forgive myself completely without first going back. You of all people must remember my behaviour. I treated you appallingly when we were there. I had no self-control, no self-respect. I paid your son to supply me with alcohol —’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Eleanor, all of that behaviour is behind me now. But I wanted to prove to you all that I meant it. Bring us back together under one roof again.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Hope. You truly thought everyone could just drop everything like that? When it’s the middle of the school term for me, a busy time for Charlotte, not to mention Audrey with her TV show, and Spencer —’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’ve already heard everyone’s excuses. If it wasn’t for Gracie’s selflessness I’d cut quite a sad figure strolling the Hall grounds on my own, wouldn’t I? Did I tell you she’s going out two days before me to get everything ready? She insisted on it.’

  ‘She told me it was your idea.’

  ‘Perhaps it was. I can’t remember. It’s fate, in any case. There are a lot of hurts in need of healing in this family, Eleanor. Gracie needs to follow where her soul is leading her.’

  ‘Why can’t I believe I’m hearing these words from you, Hope?’

  ‘I thought you agreed that becoming sober was the best thing I ever did.’

  ‘I do agree. I’m just not sure about what you did next.’

  ‘If I hadn’t gone to those AA meetings, I’d never have met Victor. If I hadn’t met Victor, I wouldn’t have become a counsellor myself, been in the position of being able to open our clinics and help so many other lost souls.’

  ‘And if Victor hadn’t been so rich or died so suddenly, you wouldn’t be as footloose and wealthy as you are now.’

  ‘Life is there in its mysteries for us, Eleanor. Our paths are preordained. We just have to have our hearts open and be ready to see the journeys unfolding in front of us.’ Hope glanced at the expensive watch on her wrist. ‘I’d better go. I’m seeing a client this evening. A well-known actress, as it
happens. Not that I can tell you her name.’

  She was almost out the door when Eleanor spoke. ‘Hope, wait.’

  Hope stopped in the doorway. ‘I know what you’re going to ask me. Did I invite Henry?’

  Eleanor nodded.

  ‘If he was going to be there, would you have changed your mind about going?’

  ‘Yes or no, Hope? Is Henry going to be there as well?’

  ‘If it’s what fate has planned for us, yes. Beyond that, I can’t say. Goodbye for now.’

  As Eleanor stood at the front window and watched Hope drive away in her quiet, gleaming car, it was all she could do not to pick up a vase and throw it across the room.

  How in God’s name had it come to this? How had the tables been so completely turned? If she could time-travel backwards to when Hope was at her worst, drinking a bottle of wine or more a day, swallowing tablets by the handful, could there have been a moment she could imagine her sister’s transformation into this … this what? This smug, self-satisfied, preaching, infuriating …

  It didn’t even help that Eleanor had seen this new version of her sister evolve, from the time Hope finally dragged herself to an AA meeting, then to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. (‘Is there a Pain-in-the-Arse Anonymous group she can join as well?’ Charlotte had wanted to know.) She’d seen Hope miraculously become sober, move in with Victor, watched in further amazement as they opened a trio of very successful, equally expensive treatment clinics around London. She’d been by Hope’s side at Victor’s funeral, seen her play the role of the bereft widow so convincingly. But not once had Eleanor trusted her sister. She’d never been able to, not as children, not as young women, and not now. The current Hope may have changed her behaviour, but she hadn’t changed her personality.

  ‘She’s just melodramatic,’ Henry had said once.

  ‘She’s malicious,’ Eleanor said. ‘Dangerous.’ She truly believed it. After all her years as a teacher, she’d realised dangerous people did exist. It was obvious even in the classroom. It sometimes started with casual, physical cruelty: a little boy killing a frog or burning ants with a magnifying glass, a group of children ganging up on the class weakling. But Eleanor had seen other methods of cruelty too. Belittling. Mocking. Finding pleasure in manipulating other people. That’s where Hope’s skill and interest lay.