In the Company of Strangers

by Liz Byrski

  He shakes his head. ‘She rang about half an hour ago, she’ll be a bit late. I told her to take her time.’

  ‘Good.’ Ruby grabs a mug, pours herself some coffee and flops into a chair. ‘Do I smell croissants?’

  ‘You do. I put them in the oven to warm.’ He gets up, takes the croissants from the oven and transfers them to a serving basket and brings them to the table.

  Ruby smiles at him. ‘You know, Declan, you’ll make some deserving woman a fine husband one day.’

  ‘Oh I doubt that,’ he says, blushing. ‘Any deserving woman would run a mile if she had any sense.’

  Ruby dips her croissant into her coffee. ‘You will have to crack this self-deprecating nonsense, that’s what would send her running. I never thought I’d say this to a man but you can afford a bit more male ego. Just a little, though – don’t get carried away.’

  He laughs and reaches for a croissant and their eyes meet.

  ‘So …’ he begins, not quite sure where he’s going. ‘So, last night …’

  Ruby sighs. ‘Yes, last night …’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ she says, leaning across the table towards him. ‘It had to happen sometime. It’s been the elephant in all my rooms for decades, so when I came back here I knew I’d have to face up to it one way or another. I guess Alice told you the story?’

  He nods. ‘I’d no idea, all those years … Harry, Catherine, they never said anything. Mind you, Harry had taken off before I got to the point of paying attention.’

  ‘Of course. Catherine would never have told you anyway, but she knew that by leaving me a share of this place she would bring us together and that eventually you’d learn what had happened.’

  ‘And you think she intended that?’

  ‘Yes I do. It think it was her way of cleaning the slate.’

  Declan leans back in his chair, half frowning. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Did you know they never married?’

  ‘Catherine and Harry? But she was Mrs Benson.’

  ‘She changed her name by deed poll. I suppose she thought it would look better. Harry and I were still married, you see. After it all happened I ran away. I couldn’t bear the thought of divorce. It wasn’t particularly easy in those days, it took ages and I just wanted to go, back to England, put it all behind me.’

  Declan leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. ‘But didn’t they get married eventually?’

  Ruby shakes her head. ‘I was still married to Harry when he died. He’d taken off with a dancer by then and Catherine was still living here. He didn’t leave a will so when he died Benson’s Reach came to me, but I wanted nothing to do with it and I made it over to Freda Benson. By that time Maurice was dead and Freda was getting a bit frail. She moved down here and Catherine looked after her until she died.’

  ‘I remember that,’ Declan says. ‘I remember coming here and Aunty Freda sitting out there on the deck with her book and her gin and tonic. She was a lovely woman.’

  ‘She was. And by that time, of course, Catherine had turned the property into a business, planted the lavender and was starting to produce the lotions and so on.’

  ‘So did she buy the place from Aunty Freda?’

  ‘No! Freda left it to her in her will. Catherine told everyone that she inherited Benson’s Reach and most people assumed she’d inherited it from Harry as a divorce settlement, which is what she intended them to think. But she actually inherited it from Freda. Once she owned it she could borrow against it to build the cottages, and the café and the shop.’

  ‘So I suppose that means Freda forgave Catherine for the affair that drove you away?’

  Ruby shrugs. ‘I’m not completely convinced of that, at least not from the letters Freda sent me. I don’t think she ever totally trusted her again, but she’d always been very fond of Catherine. Harry was dead. I was on the other side of the world. Freda had friends, but Catherine was the only person who would have felt like family to her. And I’m not a mother, but I suspect that a woman who has truly loved your son will have some sort of special place in your heart once he’s gone – and whatever else I think of what Catherine did I believe she did love Harry, perhaps even from the time we all first met. Jack was just more glamorous and exciting for a time.’

  They sit in silence for a moment, and eventually Declan shakes his head. ‘I had no idea,’ he says. ‘All the years I knew her, she never mentioned any of this.’

  ‘Pride, perhaps, or conscience,’ Ruby says. ‘When she came to see me in London she told me that she’d never got over the shame. I mean, we both suffered from the shame that was beaten into us in the convent, but she also lived with the shame of what she’d done to me. That was why she came. She wanted our friendship back but most of all she wanted forgiveness.’

  ‘And did you forgive her?’ Declan asks.

  Ruby shrugged. ‘I told her I did, but I sort of had my fingers crossed when I said it because, as I told Alice last night, I still didn’t trust her. And I think she knew that.’

  ‘I see,’ Declan says, wondering if he really does see, trying to sort things out in his head. ‘So when she was dying she made that will to try and set the record straight?’

  ‘I think so,’ Ruby nods. ‘Half to me – the controlling interest but by such a tiny percentage, so trying to return something to me. The rest to you – returning something to the family.’

  Declan rocks slowly back and forth in his chair. ‘All this makes it feel as though we’re related,’ he says.

  ‘Yes, it does feel as though, once again, I’m part of the family, but—’

  ‘So sorry I’m late,’ Fleur says, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘I hope I haven’t held you up.’

  ‘No … no,’ Declan says, forced to break out of his train of thought. ‘It’s fine, come on in, help yourself to coffee.’ These days he’s more relaxed around Fleur, although he still finds her pretty full on, but as she pours the coffee and joins them at the table he thinks she’s looking a bit odd – nervous, perhaps, maybe a bit jittery.

  ‘Croissant?’ Ruby says, offering her the basket.

  Fleur shakes her head. ‘No thanks, just the coffee.’

  Declan meets Ruby’s eyes across the table and they share a look which, he thinks, connects them in a new way and is like a punctuation mark that seals what has passed between them. It feels okay, in fact it feels good, and he sits straighter in his chair, takes a deep breath and looks around for the paperwork he needs.

  ‘Figures and plans,’ he says, shaking his head, ‘horrible stuff.’

  Fleur gives him a wobbly smile, and he thinks she looks upset and wonders if it’s his fault.

  ‘It was good though, wasn’t it,’ she says, and she seems to be trying to get herself together. ‘I mean, a good festival and good for Benson’s.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Ruby says. ‘The feedback’s been terrific, and it got us a lot of publicity. We’re back on the radar again, which is why we need to talk to you.’

  ‘We’re having to rethink things,’ Declan says, ‘and we want to run a couple of ideas past you.’

  ‘You mean you want to talk about work?’ Fleur asks.

  Declan smiles. ‘Er … yes, that’s why we asked you to pop in, what it means is—’

  ‘Look,’ Fleur cuts in, ‘I’m sorry but I thought this was about something else.’

  ‘We understand,’ Declan begins again. ‘We know you were committed to leaving but we’re hoping—’

  ‘No!’ Fleur says, and Declan sees that her hands are shaking. ‘No, you don’t want to talk to me about this before I tell you …’ She rubs her hands over her face then inhales deeply.

  ‘I thought you knew, thought you’d worked it out, but you obviously haven’t so I need to tell you. It was me. I got the marijuana for Catherine. She was in pain, and she asked.’

  ‘You?’ Ruby gasps, staring at her.

  Declan seems to have been struck dumb.

  �
��Me, yes. It wasn’t like I was dealing, I didn’t make a profit or anything, but she couldn’t organise it herself. And Todd says you’re worried that it was being sold to staff or guests, well it wasn’t. Never, I promise you. I would never do that. It was just a favour to Catherine, that’s all. Please believe me, I would never have sold it.’

  There is absolute silence in the kitchen. Ruby takes a deep breath and puffs out her cheeks. ‘Well, you’re the last person I would have thought of, Fleur. What made Catherine ask you? How did she know you’d be able to get it?’

  ‘Because we’d often talked about people using it for pain. I’d told her that a friend of mine with MS uses it. So when things got very bad she wanted to try it and asked me if I could get some. I started off making her some cookies but she didn’t like that, she started smoking instead.’

  ‘And did it help?’ Declan asks.

  Fleur nods. ‘Quite a bit, apparently. She smoked every day. But it stuffed her concentration, which is why she couldn’t cope with reading, so she got Todd reading to her.’

  Ruby and Declan exchange a glance across the table and Ruby looks away as Declan struggles to contain the urge to laugh out loud.

  ‘So you’re the source,’ he says. ‘No evil dealer fleecing old ladies and ripping off the staff and the guests, just Fleur on the mercy run.’

  She shrugs, studying her shaking hands which are clasped on the table. ‘If you want to put it like that. So, anyway, I’m really sorry. I should’ve told you straight away when you got here but … I don’t know … I was upset and … and if you feel you have to go to the police—’

  ‘The police?’ Declan cuts in. ‘Of course we’re not going to the police,’ and he hesitates and looks across at Ruby. ‘We’re not, are we, Ruby?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Ruby says. ‘No, we’re … I’m just glad you told us. It means we can stop worrying and put the whole thing to rest.’

  ‘But you’ll want me to go?’

  ‘Go where?’ Ruby says.

  ‘To leave.’

  ‘But you wanted to leave—’

  ‘I did. When Catherine died I thought I didn’t want to be here anymore, thought I needed a change. And of course it is different, it’s actually better, but …’

  ‘So are you interested in staying?’ Declan asks.

  ‘Could I?’

  ‘That’s why we asked you to come and talk to us,’ he says. ‘We’re trying to reorganise the staffing of the shop and the lavender products, the whole thing. We were hoping we could persuade you to stay on.’

  Fleur looks from one to the other. ‘But what about … well, the other thing?’

  ‘The grass? Well, it’s sorted now, isn’t it? We can destroy it. It seems to have acquired a fine coating of soot. Catherine’s storage solution left something to be desired. Just, obviously, keep this to yourself.’ He thinks he sounds competent, even authoritative, which is a very strange sensation. ‘Don’t bring drugs onto the property in future, please. And just one more thing before we get onto this work plan – do you have any idea where Paula might have got to?’

  t’s an odd sort of week, Alice thinks, preparations for the festival have been going on for so long and now the whole thing is over everyone’s spirits seem flat, besides which they’re all exhausted. At Ruby’s insistence Alice has retained the casual staff at the café until the end of the week to give herself a break, and although she certainly needs it she too feels strange and purposeless now the festival is over. It doesn’t help any of them that Benson’s looks uncharacteristically messy. The stage has not yet been dismantled; last week it looked like an invitation to a party but now its presence seems bleak and ghostly. The temporary fencing and the trestles that were used for the hot dog stall are dismantled and stacked ready for collection, and there is still a lot of litter in the field: cans, stubbies, forgotten thongs, even a couple of abandoned Eskys.

  From where she is leaning on the balcony rail of her cottage, Alice sees Ruby walk out of the kitchen with Jackson. She’s holding the door for him and he is carrying a tray with a coffee pot and mugs. She watches as they settle at the table and Ruby pours the coffee. They seem serious, she thinks, almost oblivious to anything but each other. And they look as though they belong together. Ruby has changed in the last couple of days and Alice is pretty sure it’s not only due to the relief of having broken her silence about the past.

  On the other side of the property Todd is mustering his troops. Bundy and Johno have been summoned to help with the clean-up and had turned up earlier for a free breakfast at the café. Now Todd is handing out gardening gloves and black plastic sacks and delivering instructions about collecting and sorting the rubbish. Alice feels a huge rush of affection. She remembers sitting here in her first few days at Benson’s, watching him wandering among the raspberry canes, wondering who he was and where he fitted in to the regime at Benson’s. Now he’s at the heart of the place and yet she suspects he has no idea how central he has become. He seems to have a grip on so much of what happens here, and an enthusiasm for it that is far beyond what could be expected of a sixteen-year-old. Yesterday, before he left for Bunbury, Fleur had taken him into town to open a bank account and deposit some money that Catherine had left him. His pride in being what he described as ‘a man with a substantial bank account’ had almost brought tears to Alice’s eyes. It seems that no one here at Benson’s is immune to the Todd effect – well, no one except Paula.

  Paula! Alice’s stomach churns when she thinks of her. It’s Tuesday morning and they haven’t seen or heard anything of her since the glass-smashing debacle on Saturday afternoon. Apart from the disruption of having to engage temporary cleaners, no one seems particularly concerned about Paula’s absence, but Alice keeps thinking of Fleur’s comments. Catherine had been good at managing her, she’d said, and Paula had been on some sort of medication. It all compounds her feeling that Paula’s brash manner and her apparent insensitivity to the usual boundaries between people might be a sign of something more troubling.

  ‘Have you tried calling her?’ she had asked Declan yesterday.

  ‘I have, and so has Ruby,’ he’d said, ‘and we both left messages.’

  ‘You might have scared her off.’

  He’d shaken his head. ‘We agreed to keep it friendly but firm. You know – hope you’re okay but we need to hear from you, please get in touch.’

  ‘But we can’t just leave it at that, surely?’ Alice had said. ‘She might be sick or something.’

  Declan had shrugged. ‘Both Todd and Fleur say she’s gone to ground like this before and always come back with … well, not exactly with her tail between her legs but back to being the same old Paula.’

  ‘I still don’t like it,’ Alice had said. ‘I think we should do something. Where does she live?’

  ‘Um … I think Todd said it was Wilyabrup.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Up the coast towards Yallingup.’

  ‘Someone should go and see her, check that she’s okay.’

  Declan screwed up his face. ‘Not me, I hope.’

  ‘I’ll go with you.’

  He’d turned to her then, looking into her face. ‘I thought you were staying within the grounds of the Benson prison farm, for fear of recognition.’

  ‘I am, I was,’ Alice had said, blushing, ‘but it could be time to start taking risks.’

  ‘Okay,’ Declan had said, ‘fair enough. Let’s leave it another day and if we haven’t heard from Paula by tomorrow morning you and I will take a ride up there.’

  And this morning there is still no word from Paula and she’s still not answering her phone.

  Ruby isn’t sure what’s happening. She has been longing for this opportunity to spend time alone with Jackson, to pick up the conversation that they should have had the previous morning in his cottage. Unburdening herself of the past has energised her, left her open to possibilities. Yesterday afternoon she had thrown open the door of what had been Catherine’s
room and stacked the remaining boxes in a cupboard in the passage. Then she took the journals, the nightdresses and rosaries and other mementoes, into her own room and put them in the bottom drawer of the dressing table. There was a weary sort of pleasure in the realisation that the ghosts had been laid and the room that had housed them had been returned to its rightful use.

  This moment ought to feel good; Alice and Declan are going out, Todd is clearing litter with his friends, Benson’s is quiet and at last there is time to spare. But somehow it doesn’t feel good as they sit here at right angles to each other on the sunlit deck. It’s more than the awkwardness of the previous morning; the air seems charged with tension and it’s coming from Jackson.

  Ruby feels the butterflies of anxiety fluttering in her diaphragm and tries to slow her breathing to calm herself. Ignore it, she tells herself, push through it; carry on as though everything is fine.

  Jackson sips his coffee and looks out towards the slope where the stage still stands deserted.

  ‘So how was Bunbury?’ Ruby asks, realising that she hasn’t managed to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

  He nods. ‘Swell, nice little place and a great audience. Todd seemed to have a pretty good time.’

  Silence again – awful, barren silence.

  She grips the arms of her chair. ‘We need to talk about what happened,’ she says, and as she speaks he looks away again, to the stage, the cottages, the café, everywhere but at her. ‘What I said yesterday morning, what you said …’

  He turns to her now, leans forward, looks her briefly in the eye and then away again. ‘I can’t do this, Ruby,’ he says. ‘I can’t get into this.’

  Ruby feels a leaden weight in her stomach. ‘What do you mean? You said …’

  He sighs, turning back to her. ‘I’m so sorry. I said what I felt, that when we met I felt I had known you all my life but had only just found you. It was real, it was what I felt.’

  The blood pounds in her head and her knuckles whiten. ‘It was what you felt – are you saying you no longer feel that?’

  Jackson shakes his head. ‘It was what I felt then, it’s what I still feel now, but at the same time I don’t have what it takes. Whatever is supposed to happen next, the next step, I can’t take it. I’m not made for relationships, Ruby. Every one I ever had I stuffed up one way or another. I’m a loner and now I’m too old to change.’