The Starlings
Page 29
I couldn’t work any of this out. Whenever I thought I could grip the truth it slid away from me. I cast around for other questions I needed to ask. ‘The brooch?’ I asked. ‘My mother’s brooch? Was that a lie, too?’
Resentment twisted her face. ‘I deserved that brooch,’ she said. ‘I chose it, and Dan said I could have it, and I deserved to keep it. How could I know it was anything special? It was just bad luck that I chose the one thing I shouldn’t have. I gave it back to try to keep Jenny’s good will. That worked well, didn’t it? I wish I’d kept it.’
I pressed on. ‘What was the gift?’
‘What gift?’
‘I heard you say to Grandpa that you’d given Didie a gift. I told my mother. I didn’t realise how she’d interpret it. I thought you’d actually given her something: I thought my mother would be pleased: that’s why I told her.’
Rose nodded. ‘Yes. I remember. Frank told Dan about that.’
‘So what was it?’
‘It was just that we looked after her, Nicky. We looked after her so well. She never dreamed there was anything between Dan and me.’
‘Was that such a great thing? Wouldn’t it have been pretty cruel to do anything else?’
‘I don’t think you understand. There were just the three of us in that house. It was hard to keep secrets.’
‘You seem to have managed it.’
She winced.
‘So she died happy? That’s your excuse? You slightly mismanaged an accurate dosage and she died happy?’
Her eyes narrowed and for the first time she looked angry. ‘Nicky, you have to understand, there was nothing left for your grandmother. She was old. Her life was over. There was nothing to come but pain and dependence and humiliation and more pain.’
‘Did she see it like that?’
‘Yes.’
‘How can you be sure?’
Suddenly something broke open. ‘Because she said so,’ cried Rose. ‘She wanted it to be over. She begged me to do it.’
We looked at each other. She bit her lip.
I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘She begged you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you agreed?’
‘Yes.’
‘It didn’t occur to you that you had a conflict of interest?’
‘My duty was to my patient.’
‘Well, that’s what I mean.’
‘I’m a nurse. I did what my patient asked me to do.’
‘And Grandpa found out?’
She nodded.
‘And he told you to get out?’
‘Yes.’
‘He didn’t go to the police?’
‘He loved me,’ said Rose. ‘You loved me once, Nicky. Will you go to the police?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘So all that stuff about how you can’t measure morphine—’
‘That’s true,’ she said wearily. ‘Morphine is very tricky.’
‘Nevertheless, you gave it your best shot. So to speak.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And my grandfather found out. And he told you to go.’
‘Yes. Once Jenny had said those things, they couldn’t be unsaid. I told him it wasn’t true. But he didn’t believe me. And finally I had to tell him.’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘That’s it, then. Isn’t it?’ I looked at her, and remembered how I had adored her, but now I felt flat and empty. And I thought of going to the police, but I knew I wouldn’t do it. It was Grandpa she had betrayed, and Grandpa had let her go, and I would too.
She had betrayed me too. I had thought she was kind and loving and wonderful. I tried to feel indignation and found it wouldn’t come.
She was looking at me, a strange smile playing about her lips. ‘You don’t really care, do you?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You don’t care about Didie.’
‘She was my grandmother. Of course I care.’
‘Not much, though. What you care about is that when you were a kid you thought I let you down. When you were a kid, I broke up your precious jigsaw. That’s what it comes down to, Nicky. That’s what this is all about. You don’t have any right to stand on the high moral ground and turn your nose up at me. This isn’t about Didie; it isn’t about what really happened back in the day; it isn’t about the ethics of what I did. It’s all about you. It’s all about you explaining to me how nasty I was to you, how I made you suffer, how it was all my fault.’
I was stunned. ‘That’s untrue.’
She finished her drink, and stood, and carefully slid her arms into her jacket. I saw that her hands were trembling.
‘Not friends, then,’ she said. ‘Stupid of me, to think that was what you wanted.’
She picked up her bag, and stood there, looking down at me, and the contempt in the line of her lips was the same as when she had thrown the jigsaw to the floor.
‘Will you write a play about this?’ she asked.
My throat was dry with hatred. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not a play.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people deserve to be thanked for the help they gave me, for this book specifically, and for my writing more generally. I have benefited from the criticism and encouragement given with such bounty by my fellow writers, as talented as they are generous—Gill Barnett, Lyndel Caffrey, Jennie Drake, Jacinta Halloran, Meredith Jelbart, Kathy Kizilos, Louise Manifold, Noni Morrissey and Jane Sullivan.
I owe an especial debt to my cousin Penny Matthews, herself a writer of distinction, who has as always been wonderfully supportive, generous and wise.
Gabrielle Baldwin, Peter Fitzpatrick and Stuart McIntyre were kind enough to read the manuscript and advise me on its football aspects. Leigh Matthews with great generosity allowed me to include him as a pivotal character. Allan Tessier tamed my computer and corralled lost files for me. Hugh Palmer advised on the medical details. Michael Kelly christened the Heroes of the Cosmos. Clare Forster took on the manuscript. Michael Heyward edited it with an extraordinary blend of rigour and empathy. In Text and all who sail in her I have found the publisher of my dreams.
I am enormously grateful to my husband, Dick Selleck, in this as in all other matters, for his unfailing support and stubborn bias.
Finally, I should like to acknowledge the inspiration given by Damian O’Donnell, whose brilliant writing for The Footy Almanac revealed to me the magic and drama of Australian Rules football, and taught me much about life as well.