by Liz Byrski
He is about to switch on the computer to check his email when he sees a satin jewellery roll open on the edge of the desk. Intrigued, he sits in his revolving chair and unzips the pocket. There is not much there; only some simple gold and silver earrings, and another, surprisingly flamboyant pair made of lime green and silver beads, a gold bangle and bracelet of red enamelled silver, with a swirling design. It is only as he is about to turn away that he sees it – a small, and once familiar, piece of nineteenth century enamel jewellery, a heart-shaped blue and white enamel pendant.
‘I love it,’ she had said as he fastened the clasp at the back of her neck. She’d told him it was the best birthday present she’d ever had, and that she’d keep it forever. And she has. What does that mean? In the darker moments of other relationships, Richard has often speculated on the ways his life might have unfolded had he and Zoë lived it together; whether this could have been the one relationship that didn’t degenerate into bitterness. He remembers their last months together in this flat, the plans they made; the way in which their life together began to become as important as his ambition and political commitments.
Later – years later – he had been forced to face the fact that railing against injustice in the world meant very little unless you could actually apply aspects of that passion to the way you lived your life. He had learned this from Lily, but only after she had kicked him out; it’s a lesson he has not forgotten. Since then, he has tried to balance his burning concerns about the state of the world with greater focus on his own little corner of it. By the time he tried to win Lily back, it was too late. But what about Zoë; what does she think of him now?
For a while he sits there, feeling the smooth planes and curves of the pendant. And then, recognising that this is an invasion of her privacy, he replaces it, turns off the light, and goes out to the kitchen. He pours himself a large whisky, makes a toasted cheese sandwich and sits down to watch the ten o’clock news, wondering where she is.
By quarter to eleven, he’s worried. She doesn’t know anyone in London; could she have had an accident? The minutes drip away and he wonders if he should be doing something to find her. London is not the safest of cities, especially compared with Perth, and Zoë no longer knows her way around. At eleven, he picks up the phone.
‘Haven’t a clue,’ Tom says, through a yawn. ‘Hang on, I’ll ask Jules.’
‘What are you doing there, anyway?’ Julia asks irritably when she comes to the phone. ‘You’re supposed to be in Birmingham.’
‘Oh . . . well, yes, I was, but there was a sudden change of plan.’
There is a long silence at the other end. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she says. ‘You rigged this, didn’t you?’
Now the silence is at Richard’s end. ‘Okay, I did, but only for the best possible reasons. I just wanted to talk to her, get to know her a bit better, and then I thought I could tell her about Lily.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Julia says, ‘you really are the pits, Richard. You just be careful; sometimes I think you should have a warning sign tattooed across your forehead.’
‘But do you know where she is? I’m afraid something might have happened to her.’
Julia sighs. ‘She’s a grown woman, she’s made it from Perth to London. I’m sure she can find her way back to the place she used to live.’
‘But you know what London’s like . . .’
‘Rich, she’s probably taken herself off to the theatre or a concert, and she’ll turn up in a taxi any minute. Now, just mind your own business and go to bed.’
But Richard is not satisfied. He pours himself another drink and sips it, pacing back and forth parallel to the window and looking down into the street, hoping for the sight of a taxi drawing up outside. It’s then that he remembers Zoë has given him the number of her mobile phone. He hesitates, presses call and waits as it rings. He is about to hang up when the call is answered. There is a lot of scuffling and some muffled giggling, and finally, Zoë’s voice.
‘Zoë?’ he says. ‘It’s Richard – where are you? Are you okay?’
‘Richard?’ she says, sounding distinctly odd. ‘I thought you were in Birmingham.’
‘Had to come back. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says, and there is a trill of laughter and some more mumbling in the background. ‘I am totally, completely, perfectly fine; splendid, in fact.’ More laughter.
‘Where the hell are you?’
‘You’ll never guess. Go on, guess. I bet you can’t.’
‘Of course I can’t fucking guess where you are,’ he says, angry now, thinking he sounds stupid. ‘I’m worried about you; tell me where you are. You sound as though you’ve been drinking; I’ll call a cab, and come and pick you up.’
There is more laughter now and he can hear music – the Seekers – faintly in the background.
‘Okay,’ Zoë says. ‘You give up?’
‘I give up. Tell me where you are.’ Richard is not used to being the most sober person around and he isn’t particularly enjoying the experience.
‘Well,’ she says in a whisper before going off into a burst of laughter again. ‘Actually, Rich, I’m at thirty-one Delphi Street, and Gloria and I have just been having a little smoke. I think I might be just a tiny bit stoned.’
THIRTY-FIVE
Perth – July 2000
Justine and Gaby are shopping in the city. Rosie was supposed to go with her sister to help her choose something special to wear to a party, but she reneged in favour of spending the weekend with Rob at the winery.
‘I can go with you, if you want,’ Justine had offered when she had popped upstairs to talk to Gwen and found a gloomy Gaby. ‘Tomorrow, if you like.’
She feels a special affection for Gaby since her outburst in the restaurant. It hadn’t resolved anything but had put the issue out in the open and she no longer feels that the problem is hers alone.
‘Let’s go in here,’ Gaby says. ‘This place is cool. Rosie said I should get a dress but I thought jeans, maybe, with a sparkly top. There’s this guy from school who told my friend he really likes me.’
‘I thought you didn’t have any time for boys,’ Justine says.
‘Well, I don’t but he’s not rancid, like most of them.’
This is another world for Justine, like having a younger sister. It seems full of delightful possibilities but she’s also cautious. There is, she senses, a level of risk in getting involved with Gaby and Rosie as it can only deepen Zoë’s hostility to her.
‘It’ll be all right in the end, you know,’ Gaby says, flicking through racks of sequined tops.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something lovely, and there’s heaps more shops in Hay Street.’
‘No, I mean Mum, she’ll be all right. We all love you. But Mum . . . well, I don’t know, maybe it’s the menopause thing, or maybe she’s just jealous because Dan loves you. But it’ll be okay; I felt better after I said that stuff the other night.’
‘So did I,’ Justine says. ‘Much better, and anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘Mum’s always going on about how important it is to be honest and open, but she never is. She’s always pretending things are okay, or saying she doesn’t mind when you can tell she does. Now she’s shitty with everyone but she won’t come out with it. Parents!’ She hesitates and blushes, looking at Justine, ‘Sorry, I forgot you haven’t . . .’
‘It’s okay,’ Justine says. ‘I know what you mean.’
‘Lets go to Hay Street,’ Gaby says, taking her arm as they walk out of the shop. ‘Gwen told me about how you were taken away. We learned about the stolen generation in Year Ten. And Gwen told me about going back to find your necklace at the convent and then trying to find your mum.’
‘Gwen was wonderful to me, she always has been,’ Justine says. ‘I’m so lucky, Gaby; much luckier than most of the others who were taken away.’ They are strolling through one of the arcades that leads to Hay Street and she points to a café
. ‘Would you like a coffee or a milkshake, or something?’
‘So, did you just go up there and drive around looking for her? Your mum, I mean,’ Gaby asks when they are sitting down.
‘Yes, that was more or less it. Gwen did a bit of detective work first and managed to pin it down to a couple of places in the Pilbara. Then one day she just said, “Come on, Justine, pack your bag, we’re going to find your mum”, and off we went.’
Gaby swirls the straw around in her banana milkshake. ‘Cool. Gwen’s brilliant, she does everything. Like the swimming and she does classes too, doesn’t she?’
‘It’s called the University of the Third Age,’ Justine says. ‘She goes to a writing class and one on art history.’
‘Mum should do that,’ Gaby says. ‘It would give her something else to think about.’
‘Well, she is going to an art class now,’ Justine says, surprised to find herself suddenly defending Zoë.
Gaby shrugs. ‘Whatever. So, what was it like seeing your mum again, was it amazing?’
‘Totally amazing. She was sitting on some steps outside where my auntie lives, and we drove up and they just stared at us.’ She pauses, remembering the days on the road in the big four-wheel drive that Gwen had hired; the anxious waiting while Gwen stopped to ask questions, her frantic longing for the search to be over. ‘I got out of the car and I was so scared, I just stood there.’
‘Scared?’
‘Mmm. Well, I thought maybe Mum would be upset with me because I took so long to find her. Silly, really, but I’d been planning to run away for years, first from the convent and then from the farm, and I sort of felt she must’ve known that and, because I hadn’t done it, I’d let her down. It was seven years, you see, from the time I was taken to the time Gwen took me back there.’
‘And then what happened?’
Justine smiles. ‘We just stared at each other and I thought maybe she didn’t know it was me because I’d grown so much. I was wearing the necklace and, I don’t know why, but I just put my hand up to my neck to touch it, and she got up and almost flew off those steps and we ran towards each other at the same moment.’ She laughs now, pressing her fingers to her eyes. ‘Sorry, I always cry when I think about it. It was so wonderful to find her. Like magic.’
‘So, have you got a picture of her?’
Justin pulls her wallet from her bag and hands over a battered colour print of a dark-skinned woman in a floral dress. The wind is blowing Norah’s skirt and she is holding it down with one hand and looking shyly into the camera. ‘It was taken that day,’ she says. ‘The same day we found her.’
‘Why did you stay with Gwen, then?’ Gaby asks.
‘Well, Gwen said it was up to me and Mum what happened but that if I wanted, I could live with her and she’d see me through school. It was the holidays, so I stayed on up there with Mum, and I met all my aunties and uncles, the cousins, everyone. But Mum said I should go back to the school here. I think she was just so happy to see me again, and know I was safe and that I’d wanted to come back. But she was really proud when Gwen told her I was smart and doing well. I think she trusted Gwen because she’d brought me back and she felt I’d be safe with her. So I wrote to Gwen, and she came and got me at the end of the holidays.’
‘Do you wish you’d stayed there with your mum?’
Justine shakes her head. ‘No. I loved living with Gwen and I loved going back for my holidays. And, years later, before I took over the nursery, I went and worked up there for a while. Then Gwen persuaded Mum to try living down here in the flat, where Dan and I live now. She was getting sick and Gwen thought we could look after her. But Mum couldn’t settle; she just pined for her own place and for the aunties, so we took her back. It was . . .’ she stops. She had been going to talk about what it had meant to her to find Norah and the aunties, to be there in her own country with them and to learn about her family. She wants to describe the extraordinary power of discovering the traditions, hearing the stories, understanding her history and her place in the world. But Gaby’s attention is drifting; the call of the fashion shops is just too strong. ‘Anyway,’ Justine says, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll tell you more about it another time.’
‘So you’ve got three families now – your own, Gwen’s and ours,’ she says. ‘I love it that you’re my sister. It’s so much better than just having Rosie.’
‘I love it too,’ Justine says. ‘But it’ll be better when it all settles down.’
‘So, how was the shopping?’ Dan asks that evening. ‘Did Gabs wear you out? She can be a bit full on.’
Justine smiles. ‘You can say that again. But I do love her, she’s so honest. She was interrogating me about my past.’
Dan pours two glasses of wine. ‘I hope you didn’t tell her your darkest secrets,’ he says, handing one to her. ‘Was she going on about Mum again?’
‘Yes, we did talk about that a bit. She assures me that it’ll be all right in the end. She was sort of implying that Zoë has trouble coming out with what she really feels.’
‘That’d be right. She does do some funny stuff, saying everything’s okay when you can see it’s not. But I’ve never seen her quite like this before.’
‘What do you think, then? When she gets back, are we still going to be planning the wedding in whispers because we’re scared of upsetting her?’
‘I’m not sure that scared is the right word,’ Dan says, flopping down on the sofa.
‘It’s the right word for me. I’ve been scared since New Year’s Day,’ Justine says. ‘And it’s just got worse since then, because, as Gaby said, none of us is prepared to talk about it.’
Dan reaches up for her hand and draws her down to sit beside him. The tension in her face revives the hurt and frustration he had felt before Zoë went away. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s really hard, and I was so thankful when she went away that I suppose I’d sort of put it on the back burner. But you’re right, it’s a ridiculous situation; we can’t let her intimidate us like this. We’ll see how she is when she gets back but if things haven’t changed, she’ll just have to put up with it. We’ll organise the wedding, include her in the conversations, and if she doesn’t like it, that’s her problem. If she doesn’t want to be a part of it, that’s up to her.’
‘But you two have such a special relationship.’
‘We did, but I can’t talk to her anymore. I know it’s hard for her to let go of me, but she must’ve known that it would happen sometime. And as for the rest of it – well, I can’t make up to her for the past, I shouldn’t have to, and I’m tired of the guilt trips she lays on me for choosing the army. I’m a grown man, I’ve always tried to do the best thing by my family, but I have a right to make my own choices, even if they don’t suit my mother.’
‘Of course,’ Justine says. ‘But it’s a bit like an iceberg, Dan, the crucial, dangerous part is hidden under the water. It’s true, she’s always known that you’d go eventually. What she can’t cope with is that I’m the catalyst. It’s fine for me to be the helpful woman who runs the nursery and advises her on plants, but it seems that it’s not fine for me to be the woman you love. And that scares me.’
Dan kisses her forehead. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. We’re getting married, with Mum or without her. This is not going to come between us; you have to trust me on this. I love you. You surely don’t think that’s so fragile it will crack under pressure from my mother?’
Justine smiles. ‘No, but it’s like some virus that’s affecting all of us, and I want things to be right in every way. I hate coming between you and Zoë as though you have to choose between us.’
‘No, that’s not going to happen. Gaby’s right, Mum’ll come around eventually and you know why?’
She shakes her head.
‘Because, in the end, the price of not doing so will be too high. She knows that if I had to choose, she would be the loser.’
Justine leans her weight up against him, tucking her legs u
nderneath her. ‘I love you, and I don’t want there to be any losers,’ she says. ‘Look, while we’re being so serious, there’s something else I need to talk to you about, something I should probably have told you earlier.’
‘Oh lord,’ Dan says, laughing and topping up their glasses. ‘What’s this, your criminal record?’
‘Not exactly,’ she says, with a tight smile.
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘You can tell me anything at all, unless it’s that you’ve changed your mind.’
‘You don’t escape that easily,’ Justine says. ‘And it’s not about me . . . well, it is, I suppose, but only indirectly. It’s about Gwen, and what happened the day she left me at the hospital and went back to the farm.’
THIRTY-SIX
Rye – July 2000
‘Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to read old newspaper cuttings?’ Julia asks, putting a mug of coffee down beside Tom’s box of papers.
‘And what if it is?’ he asks. ‘You sound like the woman who runs the poorhouse in Oliver Twist. Please don’t punish me, Mrs Whatever, I’m just a poor frail old invalid. I am actually doing research, but I apologise if I appear to be having fun doing it. How long do you intend to pace back and forth; you’re almost foaming at the mouth.’
‘I’m worried about Zoë,’ Julia says, ‘Zoë and Richard. There’s no answer from the phone at the flat and they’ve both got their mobiles switched off. What am I to do? Anything, literally anything, could be happening.’