Home Before Sundown

by Barbara Hannay

‘Well . . . thanks.’ Bella seemed surprised by the compliment. She shrugged. ‘It’s just what anyone would have done under the circumstances.’

  ‘Don’t underrate yourself, my dear.’

  ‘I was wondering how you feel about Mullinjim now. Do you think you’ll feel free to come back more often in the future?’

  The question caught Liz unprepared, bringing a deluge of guilt. To her dismay, her mouth twisted awkwardly and she found herself on the verge of tears. Ducking her head, she groped in the bag at her feet for tissues. ‘Whoa,’ she said shakily as she dabbed at her eyes. ‘I must be more on edge than I realised.’

  ‘If you want to talk about anything, this is your last chance,’ Bella said lightly. ‘And I’m a captive audience in this car.’

  Liz smiled. Her niece had grown up in leaps and bounds in the past few weeks and she was grateful for her offer, but out of habit, she said, ‘You don’t want to hear my sorry old story.’

  ‘Actually,’ Bella said gently. ‘I think I do want to hear it if it keeps you away from us.’

  Ouch. Liz knew Bella had made a very valid point. She’d encouraged the girl to confide, while sharing nothing of her own worries, and now it seemed almost hypocritical to keep Bella in the dark.

  ‘I should tell you,’ she said nervously. And then, before she could back down, she said quickly, ‘It all started when I was still a student at the Con in Brisbane and I foolishly found myself pregnant.’

  Bella sent a quick sympathetic smile and because she didn’t look too upset, Liz took a hasty breath and continued. ‘I’d just won a scholarship to the London School of Music when I found out that I was pregnant and I was devastated. I’d worked so hard. Incredibly hard. I was passionate about my music and I was ferociously ambitious.’

  She shot Bella a pointed glance. ‘Coming from the outback I felt as if I had something extra to prove.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Bella said gently. ‘So were you in love with the baby’s father?’

  ‘Unfortunately no. He was just a guy I met. A med student. A fling. By the time I knew I was definitely pregnant I wasn’t even seeing him anymore.’

  She looked ahead again. Already at this early hour a heat haze was shimmering on the distant blue bitumen. ‘I could only see the baby as a huge problem. A mistake blocking me from my dreams. I suppose the sensible option would have been an abortion, but I couldn’t face that.’

  Beside her, Bella made a soft sound of sympathy.

  ‘I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant, not even my best friend, and certainly not my parents. When I came home for the summer holidays I was still planning to go to London, and I was tossing around ideas about adoption, but what I really wanted was for the pregnancy to magically disappear, so I could just get on with my life and the brilliant career I had planned.’

  ‘That’s all very understandable, Liz.’

  Liz knew it was a dilemma many women had faced, but that had never made it any easier for her. ‘While I was home at Mullinjim, Peter asked me to help him with the mustering. Our parents were away, visiting relatives. Peter was only moving a small mob and he could have managed without me, but I said I’d love to go with him. I don’t think I was deliberately trying to harm the baby, but there was probably a tiny hope that somehow . . . accidentally . . . ’

  Liz gnawed nervously at her lip. ‘I didn’t hold back on the ride. I chased cattle down steep gullies and I jumped the horse over piles of logs. We rode hard for most of the day and I was almost home again when the pains started . . . ’

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to see Bella’s expression.

  ‘At first I was actually happy and relieved that my problems would soon be over. But then I saw him. My little boy.’

  Her trembling mouth pulled out of shape, but she forced herself to go on. ‘Bella, he was so tiny. So perfect. And then I realised what I’d done. I’d had a fling after a wild party and I’d been reckless and careless and I’d actually been hoping to be rid of a perfectly beautiful little boy.’

  Liz felt sick now that she’d said it out loud. Tears brimmed and she clamped her lips tightly together as she searched blindly through her bag for more tissues.

  It was only as she wiped her eyes that she realised Bella had pulled over to the side of the road.

  ‘You poor thing,’ Bella said and she rubbed Liz’s arm in a comforting sort of way.

  Liz wiped her eyes. ‘I’ve almost finished my sorry tale.’

  ‘Take your time.’

  ‘We won’t miss the bus, will we?’

  ‘We have a little time to spare.’

  Liz swallowed. ‘Poor Peter helped me to bury him. It was awful, Bella, but Pete was wonderful. We never told our parents. And as far as I know, Peter never even told your mother. He took my terrible secret to his grave.’

  The temptation to dissolve into tears again was overpowering, but somehow Liz resisted. Bella was being magnificent.

  ‘I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?’

  ‘No, Liz. I’m mainly sad that you still feel so upset about this after such a long time. I mean . . . this happened before I was born.’

  ‘But it was all my fault, you see. I was so impatient. I didn’t want to put off London for a year while I went through the pregnancy and adoption. I was scared the family would put pressure on me to keep the baby or make me feel guilty about leaving. I didn’t want to be trapped.’

  Liz shuddered, but she realised that she’d done it. For the first time she’d been completely and painfully honest . . .

  She wished she felt better about it.

  ‘Lots of women have miscarriages,’ Bella said, trying to be helpful. ‘One of my girlfriends had one last year.’

  ‘I bet she didn’t ride hard on horseback knowing it might happen. And I bet she didn’t have to bury the baby under a tree.’ Liz shivered. ‘Ever since, I’ve had to prove that my selfishness was justified. That’s why I’ve worked so damn hard at my career.’

  ‘And you’ve been nothing but brilliant.’

  Liz sighed. After Evan’s phone call it looked as if her brilliant career had already started to tarnish. ‘The thing is – my private life has been anything but brilliant. It only hit me properly yesterday at the funeral. My relationships have all been overshadowed by that one mistake. I’ve had affairs, Bella, nothing more. I’ve never allowed myself the luxury of falling properly in love. I told myself I didn’t want marriage or a family, but the truth was, I – I’ve always believed that I didn’t deserve it. I’d given up that right.’

  ‘Liz,’ Bella cried, hugging her.

  Liz was grateful for the simple hug. She could have done with a few more of them during her life.

  When Bella released her, she smiled bleakly. ‘So let my story be a warning to you, my darling. No matter how far you run, eventually you have to come home to face the music.’

  ‘Yes.’ Now it was Bella who looked anxious.

  ‘If you’ve made any mistakes, learn from them,’ Liz said. ‘Don’t be like me and keep making the same mistake over and over.’

  ‘I think that might be easier said than done.’

  ‘True.’ Liz glanced at her watch. ‘And I guess we’d better get cracking, hadn’t we?’

  As they headed off again, Liz took several deep breaths, surprised to discover that she felt a bit lighter already. Was it possible that she might, in time, be able to forgive herself?

  ‘So can I ask about Jack Roper?’ Bella asked suddenly.

  Liz’s newfound peace vanished in a blink and she couldn’t hold back a sigh. ‘I said goodbye to Jack yesterday.’

  ‘But I thought . . . ’

  ‘I said goodbye to him, Bella. End of story.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’

  *

  For the rest of the journey they switched to safer topics like Virginia and Luke, Zoe and Mac. They reminisced about cooking sausages over the campfire by the waterhole, the barbecue lunch they’d hosted.

  They reached Gidgee Springs
with only minutes to spare before the bus arrived.

  The final goodbye was even more difficult than Bella had anticipated. ‘Safe travels,’ she whispered as she hugged Liz hard and long. ‘I’ll miss you sooooo much.’

  ‘Not as much as I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll expect lots of emails.’

  ‘Yes. I promise.’

  With one foot on the bus’s step, Liz turned back. Her hair was its usual riot of curls and she was wearing travel clothes – slim grey Capri pants and a long striped T-shirt, but somehow she still managed to look elegant. ‘I know you’re still tossing up about staying here or coming back to Europe, but remember, good decisions usually feel right.’

  ‘I’ll try to remember that.’

  Bella’s throat was aching as she watched Liz take her seat. The driver slammed the door to the baggage hold and hurried back behind the wheel, eager to be off.

  From the footpath Bella stood watching as the bus pulled away and headed south, growing smaller and smaller, and the weight of her indecision had never felt heavier.

  40.

  The restaurant at the Eagle Street Pier was overflowing with businessmen enjoying extended lunches beside the Brisbane River.

  ‘I’m joining Matthew Oakley,’ Liz told the waiter who greeted her at the door.

  ‘Right. This way, please.’

  Her stomach was hollow with tension as she was shepherded past crowded tables. She could barely remember what Matthew Oakley had looked like thirty years ago and she certainly had no idea what to expect now.

  When she’d telephoned, Matthew had sounded surprised and reserved, which was totally understandable. They hadn’t seen each other since their student days and Liz had half-expected that he’d completely forgotten who she was, or at the very least that he’d say he was too busy to meet her.

  But Matthew had remembered her and he’d agreed to lunch at short notice, and here she was, scant hours before her flight to London, finally facing up to her past.

  It had been an impulsive decision and now she was paying the price – freaking out, as Bella would say.

  What if he thinks I’m completely crazy?

  Liz realised that the waiter had stopped and a man at a table set for two by a window was rising from his seat. The man was balding and he wore smart, silver-rimmed glasses. His skin was fair as if he spent a lot of time indoors, but his hazel eyes were familiar and they shone with unmistakable intelligence.

  ‘Liz,’ he said, smiling as he held out his hand. ‘Good to see you.’

  ‘Thank you, Matthew. And it’s good to see you after all this time.’

  He waited politely while she was seated and the waiter went through his ritual with Liz’s napkin and the menus.

  ‘How long has it been?’ Matthew asked when they were alone. ‘It must be about thirty years.’

  ‘That’s right. Amazing, isn’t it?’

  ‘And you look just the same. How do you do it?’

  Liz laughed. ‘Now that’s a secret I share only with my hairdresser.’

  Matthew laughed too. ‘You’re a celebrity, of course, so it’s no surprise.’

  ‘Good grief, hardly a celebrity. What about you, Matthew? I know you’re a doctor.’

  The waiter came back with a jug of water and to ask what they’d like to drink. Matthew said he was working and would prefer mineral water and Liz happily agreed, although she was nervous enough to quaff wine in large quantities. They chose their food, too, and Liz selected barramundi while Matthew chose a lamb-cutlet roast.

  When the waiter had gone again, Liz said, ‘You were going to tell me all about yourself.’

  ‘Not a lot to tell, really. Unlike you, I’ve stayed in Brisbane. I’m an obstetrician and married with three sons.’

  ‘Three?’ Liz responded, just a little breathlessly. ‘All boys? How – how lovely.’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘My wife was desperate for a daughter, but she was prepared to call it quits after three.’

  ‘Wise woman.’

  On the surface Liz was quite relaxed. This was all very safe and enjoyable, dining in a good restaurant with an old and thoroughly respectable friend.

  Looking very much the doctor, Matthew clasped his hands in front of him, his expression serious but sincere. ‘So, how can I help you, Liz? Are you trying to track down some of the old gang?’

  It was so tempting to go along with this, to keep the conversation light and pleasant, to leave Matthew in peace with his happy family without stirring up the past. But Liz knew she’d never forgive herself if she chickened out of this chance.

  ‘You’re the only person I wanted to see, Matt. There’s something I need to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago.’

  Wariness crept into his face, but he didn’t ask questions. He waited.

  Liz took a sip of mineral water to wet her suddenly parched throat. ‘It’s actually ironic that you’re an obstetrician because I wanted to tell you about a miscarriage.’

  He was frowning now. ‘Your miscarriage?’

  ‘Yes.’ Liz’s heart began to race.

  His frown deepened. ‘I assume you don’t want medical advice?’

  ‘No, no, this happened years and years ago.’

  ‘Liz, this isn’t ––?’

  She could see his thoughts whirring, piecing together their past and this one small piece of information.

  He lifted his hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘You’re not telling me this has something to do with us?’

  Liz nodded. ‘I found out I was pregnant after our––’ She was about to say fling, but quickly stopped herself. ‘After we went out those few times.’

  He stared at her for long, silent seconds.

  ‘I’m sorry, Matthew. I know you don’t want to hear this now, after all this time. It’s just that I haven’t dealt with it very well and––’

  ‘God, Liz.’ Reaching across the table he covered her hand with his. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You’re sorry? I’m the one who wants to apologise.’

  Matthew was shaking his head. ‘What for? A mutual mistake? I’m sorry it happened. And I’m certainly sorry you couldn’t tell me at the time.’

  ‘You were getting ready for your final exams. I had my sights set on London. It was the worst possible timing.’

  ‘We could have worked something out.’

  The emotion in his eyes was unexpected.

  They stared at each other across the table and Liz knew Matthew was thinking, as she was, of all the possibilities and choices and outcomes that might have connected them.

  ‘I was being selfish,’ Liz said softly. ‘I was only thinking of my career.’

  ‘Does this mean that you blame yourself?’

  She nodded, grateful that he understood.

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve suffered, Liz. ’

  Liz looked towards the doorway that led to the restaurant’s kitchen, making sure that the waiter wasn’t heading their way with their meals. She had to get his over quickly, so she told Matthew the worst part of her story, the wild horse ride and its tragic aftermath.

  He asked when exactly in the pregnancy this had happened and she told him, but by this point her eyes were blurred with tears. When she blinked hard, she saw that Matthew was teary too. He tried to smile, then took a long swig from his glass.

  ‘You poor man,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to ruin your day.’

  He said somewhat shakily, ‘You’ve never forgiven yourself.’

  ‘How could I?’ Liz dabbed discreetly at her eyes with a corner of her napkin.

  ‘But it almost certainly wasn’t your fault. Honestly, something like twenty per cent of pregnancies end in miscarriage. And some women can ride horses without losing their babies while others can wrap themselves in cottonwool and still lose them.’

  Liz knew this, but it was reassuring to have it confirmed by Matthew.

  ‘I felt so bad because I’d actually been hoping––’

  Matthe
w shook his head sadly. ‘All this time?’ he said and he looked terribly upset. ‘Liz, please, stop feeling bad about this right now. I hate to think you’ve been carrying this burden for thirty years, while I got off scot-free.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘And stop bloody apologising,’ he said with an awkward smile. ‘Bugger it, I think I need wine.’ His smile couldn’t quite hold its shape. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Then she remembered. ‘But don’t you have to get back to work?’

  ‘No. This is actually my afternoon off, but I wasn’t going to admit that till I knew why you wanted to see me.’

  They both laughed a little at this and then Matthew beckoned to the waiter and ordered a South Australian white and they drank the whole bottle with their meal, while they talked about their careers and about people they’d both known thirty years ago.

  For a while they talked philosophically, too, about life choices and timing, and synchronicity.

  ‘I’ve been to one of your concerts, you know?’ Matthew said suddenly.

  ‘Really?’ Liz stared at him, somewhat stunned.

  ‘You were amazing.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come to say hello afterwards?’

  He shrugged and his smile was shy, almost boyish, but he didn’t give her an answer.

  When their meal came to an end, Matthew insisted on driving her to the hotel where she’d left her luggage, then he took her to the airport.

  ‘It’s been so good to see you,’ she said as they stood on the footpath outside the international terminal. ‘I feel much better already.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it. And I’m really glad you rang, Liz.’

  ‘So I haven’t ruined your day?’

  ‘It’s been sobering,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s been wonderful to see you again.’

  They hugged and Matthew held her tight. ‘Be happy, Liz. For God’s sake, be happy.’

  ‘I will be,’ she said, knowing it was true, or at least it would have been true if she hadn’t just so summarily dismissed Jack Roper from her life.

  41.

  ‘There’s something I need to discuss with the two of you,’ Virginia announced at dinner.