A Complicated Woman

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Still rather in awe of this man, Dorrie hastily explained to show he was not really being rude. ‘That’s what Daddy calls you.’

  ‘Does he, beGod? I’ll have words for him. Hello, Jenny Wren! Pretty as ever.’

  Bright chuckled and stooped to deliver hugs and kisses to both children, then raised herself to greet Clive who stood in the doorway. Normally he would have divested her of her bags but today he offered only confusion.

  With Nat at her side now, Bright laughed. ‘Do we have to take our shoes off first?’

  ‘Sorry!’ Clive stepped aside and watched his in-laws deposit their bags in the hall. ‘You, er… you’ve come to see the children obviously.’

  She remained smiling. ‘Didn’t you get my letter?’

  Things fell into place then. Clive lifted his chin in recognition. ‘I wondered why you kept sending them here. She still hasn’t told you, has she?’

  ‘Told us what?’ Nat had begun to wonder why they were being kept in the hall.

  At that precise moment a woman appeared in the living-room doorway and smiled at them in pleasant manner.

  ‘She’s left us,’ said Clive.

  As Bright gasped and looked distraught, Nat remained cynical. ‘I wonder why.’

  Clive saw that he was looking at the woman. ‘Hang on, she left me for another man!’

  ‘You mean to say, she left the children with you?’ Nat’s voice was hollow, his mind suddenly wrought with the image of his own mother’s back as she walked away from him.

  Receiving a nod, Bright almost collapsed and tears filled her eyes. ‘Oh, God, how could she!’

  Nat felt as if he were going to vomit, was furious both at his daughter and his son-in-law. ‘Is it too much to ask that you let my wife sit down?’

  Clive became solicitous then, escorting Bright into the living room with a demonic-looking Nat and three confused children taking up the rear. ‘Jennifer, why don’t you two take Victoria to play with your toys?’

  Dorrie clung and whined. ‘I want to stay with you.’

  His father reassured both children. ‘I’ll be here, I just want to talk to Nanna and Grandad alone. You can talk to them later.’

  ‘Are you going to talk about Mummy?’ Dorrie chewed his upper lip with his teeth.

  ‘Never mind – Jenny, take your brother, you can come back in a minute.’

  Dorrie studied his grandmother, who was blowing her nose and trying to regain her composure. Her attitude worried him. ‘Have you seen Mummy?’ But she was spared having to answer, for his sister intervened, grabbing his hand and leading him away, Vicky following.

  When they had scampered off, the woman uttered her first words. ‘Can I get anybody a cup of tea?’

  Accepting the offer, Nat watched her go. ‘Well, she seems pretty much at home here.’

  ‘Don’t think you’re coming into my home and running down my friends!’ warned the younger man. ‘You leave Jean alone. It’s your daughter who’s to blame. You don’t know any of it, do you? Well, sit and have your cup of tea and listen to this!’

  As a skin of tannin formed on the untouched teacups, he told the calcified listeners of Oriel’s affair with Daniel, how she had not only messed his life about but the children’s too, had not been to see them in months. ‘She went to live with him a year ago, said she was trying to find a place where she could take the children but so far that hasn’t materialized, and I’m not sure I’d let them go now. They’re happy enough here.’ He saw the change of expression on their faces and sought to divert any further unpleasantness. ‘Anyway, I’ve got her latest address if you want it.’ He made as if to get this.

  ‘Don’t worry, we won’t be off there.’ Dark of face, Nat rose. ‘Come on.’ He summoned his wife. ‘We’ll have to go find an hotel.’

  Feeling more than her fifty years, Bright rose reluctantly and studied Clive with compassion. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Her son-in-law had always liked her. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he told her, then looked pointedly at her husband.

  Nat delayed his exit to challenge the younger man. ‘If you’ve summat to say—’

  Bright knew what was coming and tried to avoid it by interrupting. ‘Clive, I’ll leave the children’s presents!’ But her voice was ignored.

  After a year Clive had recovered from the initial fury at being cuckolded, but there was a residue of deep bitterness and now he directed it towards his father-in-law. ‘It’s a good job you weren’t standing there when it first happened or you would’ve got a damned sight more than a cup of tea. Do you think that just because you decided to come back into Oriel’s life when she was eighteen you wiped away all the harm you did her? She’ll never be like normal people. She thinks that Daniel’s going to solve her problems but she’s wrong, she’ll get fed up of him just like she got fed up of me. She’s going to spend her whole life skipping from man to man and all because she’s looking for the father she never had in childhood—’

  Nat erupted. ‘Don’t talk bloody rubbish! You’re trying to cover up your own shortcomings by blaming me.’

  ‘I’m not the only one that thinks it.’ Clive looked at his mother-in-law for confirmation.

  Bright wanted to disappear into the carpet. ‘Clive, I asked you not to—’

  Nat uttered no words, but the look of betrayal in his eyes said everything. He turned and walked out, calling for Vicky and seizing his cases on the way, with Bright running behind.

  ‘Nat! Nat, wait!’ She tried to catch up. Darkness had fallen and she stumbled. ‘I never meant—’

  ‘Not now.’ Mind spinning, he strode down the path, stopped dead and looked up and down the darkened street, cursing himself for not considering what he was going to do for transport. ‘Go back and ask him to ring for a taxi – a local one; I don’t want to be stood here all night.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll wait.’ His expression was taut. Not for twelve years had she seen such a face. ‘But if I go back in there I’ll do for somebody.’

  ‘How could she do such a thing?’ Bright hugged herself, was almost in tears again as she thought of her grandchildren who might be lost to her.

  Spotting Vicky running down the path to catch them up, he sighed. ‘Just bloody go.’

  At that same juncture, Oriel came upon the scene. Frantic that she must somehow have missed her parents getting off the train from Albury, she had, half an hour ago, decided the only thing for it was to brave their shocked contempt and meet them at the house in North Brighton where they must surely be.

  She saw her father and the little figure beside him as she hurried up the street, and her gait faltered. Waiting for his wife to come back Nat lit a cigarette. She saw his tensed expression in the matchflame as she approached. As he lifted his face and shook out the match he saw her too, paused in his action for a second, then threw the dead match on the ground.

  Oriel came hesitantly towards him. Vicky cried out and reached up for a hug, which her sister delivered but afterwards gave her entire attention to her father, wide blue eyes holding his face. ‘He’s told you, hasn’t he?’

  Nat gave a curt nod and looked around impatiently to see where his wife had got to. After phoning for a taxi Bright had tarried to say a proper farewell to her grandchildren and to ask her son-in-law why he had been so spiteful, but now, as the taxi appeared in the street, she emerged and came down the path. Nat hailed the cab and as it pulled up he shoved Vicky inside, holding the door open for his wife. Bright got straight in, with Nat after her. Oriel thought her mother had not seen her at first but when she shouted out, the older woman turned pain-filled eyes from the dark interior of the car and asked, ‘How could you?’

  That was all. Her father slammed the door and the taxi pulled away. With hollow heart, Oriel watched it disappear into the darkness until all that was left was the whirr of cicadas. Totally destroyed, she made her own way home.

  * * *

  It had been difficult to find an hotel at this t
ime of year. Tempers were barely controlled as Nat drove round and round before eventually finding a vacancy at one which had few comforts and inefficient staff. After a tense supper, Bright put Vicky to bed, then came to sit beside her husband, stroking his hand whilst he sat gazing bleakly at the wall.

  Nothing was said for a while, until finally he asked without looking at her, ‘Is that what you really think? That I’m to blame for all of this?’

  ‘No!’ She tightened her grip on him.

  His face was unmoved. ‘You told him you did.’

  ‘I didn’t! I was just trying to make him feel better after she’d been going to lea—’ Bright suddenly remembered that he knew none of this, but too late.

  ‘Go on.’ He had dealt her a sharp glance but now turned his cold blue eyes away.

  She sighed and rubbed the arm of his expertly tailored suit. After all these years under the Queensland sun, Nat still loved the opportunity to dress up. Aborting several attempts, she finally blurted, ‘Oriel wanted to leave him after they’d only been married a short while. It was that time she came up to see us on her own before Jenny was born. I talked her out of it, thought it was just a flash in the pan. If I’d known she’d been harbouring it all these years—’

  ‘So you told Clive it was all my fault.’

  ‘No!’ Her face was burning. ‘Well, I just said I thought it could be because she hadn’t had a father around when she was little and she was mixed up – but I didn’t intend any blame towards you! I’ve always said—’

  ‘I know what you’ve always said.’ Nat was cool. ‘But you told him different.’

  ‘It was just to make him feel better! Nat, I love you, I wouldn’t blame you for all this. Oriel’s a grown woman. It’s no one’s fault but her own – oh, how could she leave those children?’

  ‘Just like her father left her.’

  Realizing she had said the wrong thing again Bright dug her nails into her forehead wanting to scream. ‘What if Clive won’t let us see them any more? What if he gets married again?’ The thought produced more tears. ‘I’ll never forgive her!’

  Nat gave her a sideways look, then stood abruptly. ‘I’m off to bed.’

  * * *

  Oriel had gone to bed too. Afraid of the darkness without Daniel, she had opened the half-bottle of whisky in an attempt to be able to sleep. It had been meant as a gift, a rather extravagant gift, for him. She did not usually drink the stuff herself but now, her altruism quashed by the shock of parental hostility, she filled her glass, tilting it at her mouth and shivering as it burned its way down. The glass was refilled – how difficult it was to achieve unconsciousness, thoughts and voices swirling round her head – but the more she drank the worse her pain became.

  She woke to crapulence, the sound of Christmas bells and the call of festive greeting from one resident to another on the stairs. Though it was tempting to curl up into a ball, she dragged herself out of the mould-spotted bed and went to wash and change, should her beloved come home early and find a drunkard.

  He did not come. She waited all day in her best dress, thinking of Daniel with his children, wondering if she would ever see her own again, wondering where he had slept last night, wondering was that his footstep in the hall, wondering, wondering. Pressure had been building up inside her head for days, her brain crammed with thoughts and voices – Mummy Jean – surely there could be no room for more but, yes, now her mother’s face accused her, her father’s too. She tried to fight them – what did they know of her tragedy? Hidden away in paradise the Depression had touched neither of them. Yet, their faces and accusations continued to haunt her, pushing her further and further towards the abyss. She was a rotten daughter, a rotten mother, a rotten wife.

  Fighting panic, she sprang up and busied herself with the evening repast, turned on the oven and installed the joint of Christmas pork. Soon, the smell of it was wafting through the house, but still Daniel did not come.

  * * *

  After a night’s sleep, Nat’s anger had burned itself out. He had still not forgiven his wife, but, in recognition that Christmas would be totally ruined for his younger daughter, had suggested they try to maintain the festive spirit for Vicky’s sake. Bright had agreed and, before breakfast, made the tentative appeal that they ring Clive and ask if she could join Jennifer and Dorrie in the opening of their presents. Their son-in-law kindly acceded, saying that the child could also stay the night in order to allow them to go and see Oriel.

  Still Nat had refused to do this. Back at the hotel, he and Bright had picked at a lukewarm Christmas lunch, but demurred the offer to join in party games and retired to their room. Nat collapsed on the sofa and remained in this position for some time, nostrils taut at the sound of the people downstairs enjoying themselves when all he wanted was peace. It wasn’t fair that this should happen at his time of life.

  Finally, he broached the subject, the tone of his voice and the look on his face showing he had been thinking of nothing else all day. ‘I always said he wasn’t right for her.’

  Pale of feature, mouth turned down, Bright nodded. ‘And I always said I’d never desert Oriel whatever she’d done. Didn’t take much to shatter that resolution, did it? Once a Maguire always a Maguire. God, I wish I’d listened to you and persuaded her not to marry him – but I genuinely thought she loved him. And I always found him so nice.’

  ‘Isn’t it strange how so-called nice people can be such little shits?’ Nat lit a cigarette.

  Though hating the bitterness, she interpreted his meaning. ‘You never know someone until you live with them. I suppose she wouldn’t have left him without good reason, would she?’

  He shook his head. What had been his mother’s reason when she had left him?

  ‘Often it’s difficult for outsiders to see those reasons. I’ve been thinking about it all day, about the way people thought I was mad when I refused to marry anyone but you. Maybe she feels that way about Daniel. Maybe she’s always loved him and didn’t dare say. I can understand that – though I still for the life of me can’t understand why she had to leave Jennifer and Dorrie. I asked their father if we’d still be able to see them. He seemed vague.’

  ‘He needn’t think he’s keeping me from my grandbairns.’ Nat took a long drag.

  ‘Didn’t Oriel look ghastly?’

  Her husband closed his eyes and nodded.

  ‘I feel awful now, treating her like that. I was just so mad.’ She watched him for a moment, then asked, ‘Can you forgive me for putting forth my stupid theory to Clive?’

  After a moment’s hesitance, he patted her knee. ‘Maybe it’s not so daft.’ For too long he had been laying the blame at his mother’s door. She had left him. He had left Oriel. She had her reasons, he had his and Oriel would no doubt have hers. It was impossible to tell what another was feeling, even when suffering an identical crisis. Everyone coped in a different fashion. He had matured enough to see that. But now the circle must be broken. The grudge against his mother was too deeply engrained to be removed, but it was at his fingertips to prevent the same thing happening to Dorrie. He puffed out his cheeks, eyes staring into midair. ‘Still, we won’t find out if we don’t give her a chance to put her side of the story, will we? I wish I’d got her address off him now.’ He laid the smouldering cigarette in an ashtray and rose. ‘I think I’ll give him a ring.’

  He stood for a while with the receiver to his ear, but the call went unanswered.

  Hovering nearby, Bright explained. ‘Clive said he was taking the children round to his mother’s for tea. Dorothy might know. I hope so. I just keep seeing Oriel’s face when I said my last words to her.’ Tears came again along with a sense of urgency. ‘Can you ring? I don’t think I’ll be able to get my words out.’

  Nat picked up the telephone again, and waited.

  * * *

  Oriel was still alone. The whisky bottle had come out again. It was empty now and it had not helped. Mummy Jean, Mummy Jean, Mummy Jean – Daniel, where are you?
My babies, my babies.

  She fell on to the bed, squirming her face into the musty pillow, trying to escape the voices. Alcohol and despair fuddled her senses. Above the landlady’s cackling merriment came the throbbing of her own blood as it pulsed through her arteries, swishing, thudding, her mind seemed on the verge of explosion, as if someone were trying to cram a mattress into a cushion case that was far, far too small and threatened to burst at the seams. Her own words came back to haunt her – we’re going to pay dearly for this happiness – and the seams began to give way. In the certainty that everything was lost she staggered from the bed, across the hall and out into the night, dropping the bottle on her way.

  Her fingerprints were barely cold upon the glass when Daniel came through the door, grimaced at the sound of drunken singing from his landlady then accidentally kicked the bottle and sent it spinning across the linoleum. Cursing the drunk who had abandoned it he went to pick it up and took it into his room.

  The door was slightly ajar. ‘Sorry, I’m late, darlin’! Oh, Christ I’ve had a helluva—’

  He broke off upon entering. The light was on but Oriel was not here. There was an awful smell of burning too. Opening the oven he gasped at the cloud of heat that came out and shut the door quickly on the burnt ember inside. Hearing a female voice just outside his door he thought it must be her and went cheerfully to answer it. ‘What the hell d’you call this for Christmas dinner?’

  Bright donated a barely polite smile, her husband saying abruptly, ‘We’ve come to see our Oriel.’

  The grin faded. ‘Oh – she isn’t here. Can’t be far away, though. Come in.’ Daniel stepped aside, then suddenly thought to explain, ‘Sorry, I’ve been away. She did meet you at the station last night?’

  Removing his hat, Nat shook his head. ‘We came by aeroplane. We did see her briefly but – well, we were a bit angry and we didn’t give her time to say owt. Clive had already told us, you see.’ Faced with the austerity of the room he turned to his wife, both looked askance. ‘She’s been living here for a year?’