by Fiona Lowe
Sarah shook her head. ‘Mum wouldn’t do that. She’s always had a thing about security. Remember how Dad used to tease her about being a city chick? He’d say that leaving everything unlocked was the only Mingunyah tradition Mum didn’t adopt. God, how many times growing up did we get into trouble for leaving our bedroom windows open when we left the house?’
‘I never lock my windows,’ Ellie said absently, her gaze fixed on the trampoline outside.
‘You don’t have anything worth stealing,’ Cameron said.
‘I have my Tibetan chimes.’
Sarah glanced at her sister, trying to work out if she was being serious or just winding up Cameron. She could never tell and she wished she could, because joining forces with Ellie and pushing their brother’s buttons was her sort of fun. As much as Sarah loved Anita—they shared the sort of relationship she’d never come close to achieving with Ellie—they couldn’t bond over teasing Cameron. To her knowledge, Anita didn’t tease him. Sarah found this a little odd, because she teased Alex a lot. More than once she’d wondered if this lack on Anita’s part had something to do with the seven-year age gap in the marriage or with the slightly disconcerting thought that Anita worshipped Cameron for marrying her.
‘And so many thieves are going to bother to lift brass chimes,’ Cameron responded predictably before turning to Sarah. ‘It’s a bit hard to argue hard-core theft when the car was parked in the IGA parking lot without a scratch on it. When I asked the good sergeant to run fingerprints, he told me I’d been watching too much American television. As far as he’s concerned, the car’s back where it belongs, end of story.’
‘Is there a chance Mum’s forgetting things?’ Ellie asked.
‘No,’ Cameron said firmly in his ‘I’m the brother and I know best’ voice.
A slight stiffness rippled across Ellie’s shoulders. ‘She’s already told me twice today that Lindsay Bolt visited her last week after seeing a blue porcelain cat worth two thousand dollars identical to Mum’s on Antique Roadshow.’
‘She probably thought you didn’t hear her the first time when you were distracted by Noah’s enthusiastic assault on the chips.’ Noah had leaped onto the bowl as if he’d not eaten the salty treats since the last time he’d visited. Mind you, that was a distinct possibility. Sarah knew Ellie’s parenting veered from being super strict with some things and incredibly lax with others.
‘Sarah and I see more of her than you do,’ Cameron added pompously. ‘We’d have noticed if there was something wrong.’
‘I’m not worried about her memory,’ Sarah said, ‘but I do worry she’s determined to stay in the house. It’s too big for her. I think it might be time for her to sell and downsize. I’m going to take her to look at the new townhouses they’re building on the old saleyard site. Two of her friends have already put down deposits.’
‘Mum doesn’t need to move. Rita Bosco comes once a week to clean,’ Cameron said.
‘It’s not just the housework. It’s the garden too. Alex, Gus and I spent last Sunday doing a massive prune and clean up. Moving would solve that, but in the meantime, I was thinking of getting a quote from a gardener. Ellie, do you have a Burmese man or woman who’d be interested in some work?’
Cameron looked sceptical. ‘You know what Mum’s like. Do you really think she’ll be happy having an Asian gardener when her father was tortured by one?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Ellie snapped. ‘The Burmese aren’t Japanese and Mum, for all her faults, isn’t racist. Her grandson’s half Thai and she shows as much interest in Noah as she does in Ava and Chloe.’
Sarah decided it wasn’t politic to mention that in comparison to the doting interest Margaret had lavished on Finn, Gus and Emma when they were little, the attention she gave the younger grandchildren was negligible. It was almost as if she’d used up all her grandmothering energy by the time they arrived. But that aside, she had no idea what Cameron was on about. ‘Mum hasn’t got a problem with the Japanese. She and Dad visited Tokyo, remember?’
‘I just think it’s better if someone in the family does the garden,’ Cameron said firmly. ‘What about Gus?’
‘What about me?’ Gus ambled in through the back door with Noah standing on his feet and Ava hanging off his back like a monkey.
‘I’ve got a job for you,’ Cameron said in a magnanimous tone. ‘Mowing Gran’s lawns and weeding her garden.’
‘Oh.’ Gus looked underwhelmed.
‘It’s fifteen dollars an hour. Cash in hand, mate.’
‘Thanks for thinking of me, Uncle Cam, but Dad pays twenty-two. I think I’ll stick to milking sheep and goats and sticking cheese into jars of olive oil.’
‘Giddy up, Gus!’ Ava commanded. Her cousin whinnied like a horse, turned and headed back outside.
Ellie laughed. ‘Looks like you’ll have to up your rates, Cameron, or do it yourself for free like Alex and Sarah.’
‘I’m busy establishing a new business. Unlike some people, I don’t get weekends off.’
‘We could draw up a roster,’ Sarah suggested before Ellie made a crack about working for the man and the constant seeking of profits over people. ‘Between us, we can keep the garden under control until she sells.’
‘Mum’s never mentioned to me that she wants to sell the house,’ Cameron said. ‘It sounds like you’re badgering her into it.’
A jet of anger shot along Sarah’s veins, not dissimilar to those she’d experienced as a child when Cameron falsely accused her of something. ‘I’m not badgering her. I’m discussing options.’
‘If she’d wanted to move, she’d have done it years ago,’ Cameron huffed. ‘It’s not like she’s only just started living there alone. Dad’s been dead for twenty-six years.’
‘Being on her own isn’t the issue!’ She pulled back, softening her tone to try to get him onside. ‘She’s not keeping up with the garden.’
‘Well, I suppose I could possibly commit to helping once every couple of months but definitely not when Phoebe and Ruby are home competing and I’m flat out towing a horse float to every gymkhana within a hundred K.’
‘They might be happy to work for fifteen dollars an hour,’ Ellie said wryly.
A red flush crawled up Cameron’s neck. ‘Just wait until Noah’s a teenager and you’re driving all over the country for his passion.’
‘What about you, Ellie?’ Sarah asked, trying to keep them on track and away from lunging at each other’s throats. ‘How much garden time can you spare?’
‘I think Mum should employ someone. It’s not like she can’t afford it.’
‘True, but she doesn’t spend money easily.’ The words were out before Sarah realised she’d spoken them.
Ellie’s sparkling, pool-blue eyes opened wide as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. A throaty laugh bubbled out of her and tears trickled down her face. ‘Oh, it was worth coming today just to hear that.’
‘And I thought you came to see us,’ Sarah said, locking onto offence to block her guilt over the uncharitable comment about her mother.
‘I for one appreciate our mother’s fiscal prudency and investment savvy.’ Cameron shot Ellie a combative look. ‘I doubt you’ll say no to a six-figure inheritance.’
‘Actually, I’d rather she spent her money making her life easier now than passing it on to me.’
‘Spoken by the woman who’s already benefitted from a big chunk of change.’
‘Cameron,’ Sarah cautioned as she scooped coffee into the plunger. Alex, please come home now and distract everyone with a story of how you rescued the cheese. She checked the clock: 3.35. She’d expected to have heard from him by now.
‘What are you on about?’ Ellie asked, clearly perplexed.
‘Don’t give me the innocent act. Sarah and I went to Mingunyah High but that wasn’t good enough for Princess Ellie. You badgered Mum and made her life miserable until she had no choice but to give in and send you to MLC.’
Ellie’s mouth tighte
ned. ‘I believe you got three years at Mannix College when you were at Monash Uni.’
‘It didn’t come close. Your education cost fifty times what ours did and gave you opportunities we never had. But have you used any of them or the networking it offered you? I don’t think so. How many courses have you started? Three?’ He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Four, if you don’t count the tarot cards and aura-reading class. Did you ever finish any of them? I don’t think so.’
Ellie’s nostrils flared. ‘If it bothers you so much, brother dear, why don’t we pro rata what was spent on my boarding and your college fees. If we do that we’ll both owe Sarah money from our inheritance, because she lived in a share house in Carlton.’
‘Shut up, both of you! It’s disgusting, talking as if Mum’s money is already yours. Mum’s always kept the contents of her will private, so for all we know, she might be leaving everything to the hospital. Inheritance is a gift not a right, and our mother is still very much alive, thank you very much. And she’s waiting for dessert.’ Her hand shook as she poured boiling water over the ground coffee.
‘Hey! Why am I being lumped in with being a baddie? It was Cam who brought up the subject and took a crack at me.’ Ellie set down her wine glass. ‘I’m going outside to jump on the trampoline with Noah.’
The moment the back door slammed, Sarah sighed. ‘Thanks for imploding a happy family gathering, Cam.’
‘What? Why am I in trouble for saying something we’ve both thought for years? It was time it was said. She’s had privileges you and I were denied and she’s wasted every single one of them.’ He looked out the window, watching Ellie holding Noah’s hands and jumping high. ‘I mean look at her! Her car’s on the verge of dying, she’s renting a room in a house that’s been a thorn in the side of the shire for years, her clothes look like she buys them from the op shop and Noah, the poor kid, has no male role models. What the hell is she doing with her life?’
Although Sarah had said similar things to Alex over the years, agreeing with Cameron didn’t come naturally. ‘Noah has you, Alex, Gus and Finn. I believe the new PE teacher at his school is a man.’
Cameron rolled his eyes. ‘It’s almost impossible to be a role model when we see the kid less than three times a year.’
‘Perhaps if you didn’t bait her quite so much, she’d come more often.’
‘Jesus. I need some fresh air.’ He strode out of the kitchen, making a beeline for the French doors and the veranda.
Alone in the kitchen on Mother’s Day. Again. Sarah arranged the cheeses on the board, unwrapping her favourite—their blue vein cheese. Eighteen years ago, this cheese had launched their business. Back then their goal was to become known as the cheese makers of an Australian-styled version of the famous French Roquefort. For five years, it had been their signature cheese but once they’d introduced their goat’s cheese marinated in herb-infused olive oil, it quickly outpaced sales of the sheep’s milk blue to the point they had to reassess the demand. It was the first business decision she and Alex had disagreed on and he’d accused her of letting sentimentality get in the way of sound business sense: ‘The figures never lie, Sarah.’ She’d hated that he was right and, as the cheese making had been her idea, letting go of the blue had been like severing a part of herself. Now it was only made in small batches and sold as a boutique cheese in the café.
Anita walked into the kitchen, her petite frame bustling with energy. ‘How can I help?’
‘It would be great if you could hull the strawberries. If we surround the cake with them, it might draw attention away from the fact it’s totally uneven.’
‘I can do that.’
‘Thanks. Everyone else seems to have disappeared on me.’
‘Are you okay? You sound a bit upset.’
‘Sorry. I’ve been feeling a bit Jekyll and Hyde all day. Probably because I missed my sleep-in or I’m premenstrual.’ Her periods had been all over the place lately and she didn’t even want to think about what that might mean. ‘Oh, what the hell.’ She grabbed a bottle of vintage champagne out of the fridge, popped the cork and poured them both a glass. ‘Happy Mother’s Day.’
‘Happy Mother’s Day.’ Anita smiled as she sipped, enjoying the dry and tangy flavour. ‘Next year, I’ll host and you can bring the champagne. No arguments.’
‘You’re on. You don’t fancy doing Christmas too, do you?’
‘Just let me run it past Cameron. You know how men like to be consulted about these things.’
Sarah didn’t know any such thing. She was the front-end controller of their domestic lives and the coordinator of the family calendar. She told Alex the date and time of family functions and he turned up and served the drinks. For some reason, the idea of Anita telling Cameron that she’d asked them to host Christmas rankled. It gave Cameron the power to say no. As she and Cameron had been in competition all their lives, giving him the advantage didn’t sit right at all.
‘I’m kidding,’ Sarah said lightly. ‘Of course we’ll have Christmas here. It makes sense. Mum dislikes change and we’ve got the pool so it’s best for the kids.’
Anita’s forehead wrinkled slightly. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Have you heard from Emma today?’
‘Not yet. She’ll only just be waking up to Sunday in France, so hopefully I’ll get a call soon. I hope Alex is back by then.’
‘You’ll feel better after you talk to Emma. I know I felt a lot happier after chatting with Phoebe and Ruby. Did Gus—’
‘Sarah? Oh, there you are.’ Margaret shot a disapproving look at the two of them leaning against the island bench, drinking. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves. Meanwhile, you’ve left me sitting alone in the dining room.’
‘I’ve only been gone a couple of minutes, Margaret,’ Anita said apologetically. ‘I came in to help Sarah. We’ll call everyone to come back and sit down.’
Margaret looked at the platters. ‘Cake and cheese? Is that all you’re serving? People will go home hungry.’
Sarah’s hand tightened around the stem of her glass despite having anticipated and prepared for Margaret’s reaction. Her mother’s sweet tooth was legendary. When her parents had hosted dinner parties, there’d always been two desserts to choose from and, on extra-special occasions, three. If she was ever asked to name the desserts of her childhood, she’d answer chocolate ripple cake, brandy Alexander pie and chocolate mousse. All of them featured alcohol and lashings of cream. Today’s offerings were a compromise to accommodate everyone’s tastes and waistlines.
‘I’ve also got your favourite truffles.’
Margaret’s critical demeanour faded and she smiled. ‘Your father bought me those.’
‘I remember. He ordered them from the Australia Arcade in Melbourne and when they arrived in their beautiful tin, Cam and I would beg you to let us have one.’
Her mother laughed, a tinkling, girlish sound, and she leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Sometimes, I ate them all myself.’
Sarah remembered that too.
CHAPTER
3
Sarah sat on the couch with her feet resting on the ottoman, a glass of merlot in her hand and a plate of cheese, biscuits and grapes balanced on her lap. It was six o’clock and apart from the gentle swish of the dishwasher, the house was quiet. She toyed with the idea of watching a movie or finding something on the PVR but she hoped Alex would be walking through the door any minute. He’d been gone for hours, which wasn’t unusual but even so, she’d left a message on his phone. She knew he never replied when he was consumed by a crisis but she’d expected him to have called by now.
She thought about rousing herself and driving down to the dairy but she’d been on her feet for almost twelve hours and the idea seemed like far too much effort. She sipped her wine. Whatever the problem was, Alex’s lack of contact meant they hadn’t lost any milk. If production had been affected, he would have summoned her to the office hours ago to make apolog
ising and soothing phone calls to customers and to adjust the invoices.
‘I’m starving.’ Gus slumped onto the couch next to her. ‘Those kids work me harder than coach does at training. What’s for dinner?’
‘Whatever’s in the fridge that takes your fancy.’
‘So, you’re not cooking?’ Surprise wrinkled his handsome face, reminding her of Alex in his younger days.
She loved her husband and sons dearly, but sometimes she wondered at their expectation that she was the sole solution to all their wants and needs. ‘Angus George Jamieson, I’ve got two words for you: Mother’s Day.’
‘I thought Mother’s Day only lasted until lunchtime.’
‘That’s April Fool’s Day.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ His hand snuck out to grab a biscuit and cheese.
She slapped it lightly. ‘Get your own.’
He sighed and rested his body against hers as his head dropped onto her shoulder. She closed her eyes, savouring contentment. Almost seventeen-year-old sons lurched between the needs of their seven-year-old selves—loving nothing more than a cuddle from their mum—and the distance demanded by their almost-adult selves.
‘Mum?’
She leaned her cheek against his hair and forgave him that it no longer held the sweet scent of a little boy. ‘Yes.’
‘You know how school’s doing Sweet Charity this year?’
Gus lived and breathed footy and skiing, and Finn hated being the centre of attention, which left Emma as the only child involved in the drama productions. As her daughter was in France, Sarah hadn’t taken much notice of what was happening on the arts front this year. ‘No.’
‘Yeah. Three shows. It opens in two weeks.’
She suppressed a woot of delight. This year she had a get-out-ofjail-free card. No being roped into making costumes, painting sets, doing hair and makeup and propping up a stressed-out drama teacher. ‘I’m enjoying my year off from all the theatrics on and off stage.’
‘About that …’ Gus shifted on the couch. ‘I’m in it.’