Birthright

by Fiona Lowe

  Apparently, he didn’t see it that way and it had taken him fifteen years—fifteen years!—to tell her.

  The expected anger didn’t come. Instead, desolation rolled in like rain in the valley on a frosty winter’s day—bone-chillingly damp and making everything seem hopeless and forlorn.

  ‘I thought we’d recovered from that terrible time, Alex. Made our peace. Now I’m wondering if we just papered over the cracks.’

  The squeak of the door made them shoot to their feet and Graeme walked in with a woman they didn’t recognise.

  ‘Alex, Sarah, this is Pamela Darcas. She’s the youth justice worker in the region. She’s going to have a chat with you.’

  Sarah smiled tightly and said a quick hello to the woman before turning to Graeme. ‘When can we see Gus?’

  ‘Have a seat, Mr and Mrs Hadfield,’ Pamela said kindly. ‘Gus is safe and will be released into your care when we’ve finished here.’

  Sarah glanced at Alex, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. She sat down. Alex took a seat opposite her. Pamela, glancing between them, pulled up a chair and sat in no-man’s land.

  ‘Gus tells me the two of you are currently separated.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Alex said gruffly.

  ‘And how’s that going?’

  ‘Look, we’re not here to talk about us,’ Alex said curtly as Sarah said, ‘We’re here to talk about Gus.’

  Pamela nodded, her face impassive. ‘And what’s going on at home can’t be separated from what Gus did today.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Alex blustered. ‘We’ve never condoned violence. I’ve never hit Sarah. Hell, neither of us have hit anyone and we’ve never slapped the kids.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying, Mr Hadfield. Gus hasn’t said much at all, but he did tell me that he’s the only one of your children who knows about the separation. Do you agree that’s a huge responsibility for a seventeen-year-old?’

  Sarah’s stomach heaved. ‘We thought we were doing the right thing. Our situation’s complicated by the other children being away and all the books say you should tell the children in person—’

  ‘It doesn’t explain why he punched a kid!’ Alex interrupted.

  ‘Young men’s brains are still developing. Sometimes they can be overwhelmed by their feelings,’ Pamela said.

  Alex frowned, confusion clear on his face. ‘That’s not an excuse for breaking a kid’s nose.’

  ‘No, but it may explain why it happened. The two of you have imposed your separation on Gus and he has no power in the situation. During the argument with Mason, he could and did take control. He seized the power.’

  ‘Control? Power?’ Alex’s voice rose. ‘It’s more like bloody anarchy. What the hell were they arguing about anyway?’

  Pamela sighed. ‘He won’t tell me. I’m hoping the two of you will be able to coax it out of him.’

  ‘Alex.’ Sarah looked at him, thinking about the current secrets she couldn’t share with anyone and how weighted down they made her feel. ‘Obviously, Gus hitting Mason is indefensible but we did ask him not to tell anyone and he …’ She swallowed. He might know about Edmund and Kelly. But she wasn’t prepared to say the unpalatable words in front of Pamela; words that laid bare her and Alex’s less than stellar behaviour. ‘He isn’t blind or deaf.’

  Alex’s troubled gaze held hers for a moment and then he rubbed his face and sighed. ‘We’ll sit down together and talk to him. But what happens now? Is he going to be charged? Do we need to get a lawyer down here?’

  ‘Given this is Gus’s first offence and the fact he’s a local football star who’s won best and fairest most seasons, Sergeant Aitkens and I agree that mediation is the best way to deal with the case. But for it to work, Gus must open up about what actually happened.’ She stood up. ‘For now, take him home, feed him and make sure he gets some sleep. I think the recent holidays, parties and couch surfing haven’t done him any favours. Talk to him tomorrow when he’s rested.’ She opened the door. ‘I’ll send him in.’

  ‘She doesn’t pull any punches,’ Alex said, when the door shut behind her.

  ‘No.’ Sarah blinked back tears. ‘I hate that we’ve done this to Gus.’

  Alex’s head jerked around as if he didn’t believe what he’d just heard. He studied her closely. It took her a moment before she realised it was the first time she hadn’t placed the blame squarely on him. ‘We should have handled things better. Done things differently.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘We should have.’

  CHAPTER

  21

  Anita strolled up to the school gate a few minutes before the afternoon bell and hesitated, torn between an easy chat with Tam or taking the wise business decision and talking to Jess. The free lasagne all those weeks ago had paid off in spades, and she now had a regular fortnightly cooking gig for Jess and two of the other pony club mothers. Decision made, she was about to walk over to Jess when Tam looked straight at her. As Anita took a step towards her, the usually friendly woman turned away as if they hadn’t just made eye contact.

  Taken aback, Anita stalled, stranding herself in the centre of an expanse of grey asphalt. There was little ambiguity in Tam’s action; Anita knew a slight when she saw one, having been victim of many when she was a school girl.

  Oh my God, what are you wearing? You smell, you stinky povvo. Go away. You can’t play with us.

  ‘Anita!’ Jess’s voice roused her and she accepted her air-kiss greeting. ‘God, Anita, how do you do it? You always look amazing. Are those a pair of Stuart Weitzmans?’

  Anita followed Jess’s gaze to the brown suede ankle boots with fur trim that she’d bought a few weeks before. She and Cameron had treated themselves, celebrating the details of the new will and the amazing windfall of the education trust.

  ‘I was a little bit naughty,’ she confessed, appreciating the woman’s confidence-bolstering admiration. ‘But I couldn’t resist them.’

  ‘I know what you mean. They’re darling and they suit your look to a T. Were you celebrating your new acquisition?’

  Anita smiled hesitantly, not certain what Jess was talking about. Margaret was still hovering in a state of limbo—more dead than alive but still breathing—which meant Mill House wasn’t yet theirs. Despite all her arguments to the contrary, Rupert Grimes had banned her from visiting, let alone using, the house for Cooked By a Friend. She seethed every time she thought about his high-handed manner. He’d spoken to her as if she was one of the little girls, instead of a thirty-seven-year-old businesswoman. Although Cameron had rolled his eyes, indicating he understood the lawyer was being patronising, he hadn’t said anything to rectify the situation.

  ‘I’ve always loved Warrnbatt,’ Jess continued. ‘When do you move?’

  The missing pieces of the conversation fell into place. ‘Oh no, we’re not moving to Warrnbatt. Cameron bought it as an investment property for the business. Being right on the river, it’s ideal for holiday rentals.’

  ‘Savvy plan. Greg says your husband’s no fool.’ Jess glanced at Tam, who was chatting with her fellow sustainability sisters. ‘I know business is business, Anita, but just a word to the wise: Tam’s good friends with Jane Parry. Rumour is, they’ve lost their house in Albury.’

  Anita’s chest cramped as the past rushed up to greet her.

  ‘That’s—how awful for them,’ Anita managed to stammer, her face burning. She was far too familiar with how losing a house put a family one step away from poverty and homelessness. Pack up your toys, Anita. Someone else is going to live here now.

  Jess tutted. ‘I don’t know what they were thinking with Warrnbatt. I mean, even if Jane grew every damn vegetable and piece of fruit they ever consumed, recycled everything and made the kids’ clothes, there’s no way they were ever going to afford those renovations on Chris’s salary. Jane’s earth-mother calm must be struggling to stay zen. She didn’t want to move to Albury in the first place and now they’re stuck.’

  ‘I don’t re
ally know them,’ Anita said. ‘One of their girls was in Ava’s class but they moved soon after we arrived.’

  ‘You’re not missing much. Not really our type,’ Jess said conspiratorially. ‘Can you do coffee tomorrow at ten?’

  Anita nodded distractedly and greeted the little girls as they rushed up to her.

  ‘Look, Mummy,’ Ava said, holding up a painting of stick figures standing in front of a house. ‘It’s us.’

  ‘Lovely, darling,’ she said, ushering them out the gate and along the footpath towards home.

  ‘We’re doing family trees,’ Chloe added excitedly. ‘Ava’s little so she just has to draw but Mrs Novak says we have to write down everyone’s names. Noah and I already started ’cept he can’t spell his dad’s name but I can spell Cameron. C-A-M-E-R-O-N,’ she sang, skipping along.

  ‘I want to write down everyone’s names too!’ Ava stamped her foot, her face lined with determination.

  ‘Well, you can’t. You’re too little,’ Chloe countered.

  ‘Let’s have something to eat first,’ Anita said, recognising the symptoms of post-school hunger. ‘Then I’ll help both of you with your trees.’

  Happy with the decision, the girls ran on ahead. Anita had laid out afternoon tea before pickup so twenty minutes later, fed and watered, the girls were ready with notebooks, pens, pencils and paints. Ava was cheerfully drawing a tree and Chloe, concentrating hard with the tip of her tongue protruding from her mouth, was carefully copying out all the names of the immediate Jamieson extended family and connecting them along the tree lines.

  Anita glanced over, admiring her daughter’s penmanship. ‘Well done, Chlo. Very neat.’

  Chloe chewed her pencil. ‘It’s crooked.’

  ‘No it isn’t. You wrote on the lines beautifully.’

  ‘I mean the tree. Your side is empty. Who was your mummy?’

  ‘Her name was Lena Jankovic.’

  Ava screwed up her face. ‘That’s a funny name.’

  What sort of name is that? You’re weird.

  Anita gave herself a shake. ‘It’s Serbian. Serbia is a country in Europe and she was born there.’

  ‘Were you born there?’ Chloe asked, looking at her mother with new eyes.

  ‘No, I was born in Melbourne.’ Anita suddenly felt hot, which was ridiculous as it was so cold the heater was struggling to maintain a comfortable temperature.

  ‘Was it a pretty house?’ Ava asked, adding flowers to her painting.

  The scent of rotting food assaulted Anita’s nostrils and suddenly she was back picking her way around empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays and half-eaten meals.

  ‘Very pretty.’

  Ava splotched pink onto one of the stick figures. ‘That’s your mummy. Did you have a daddy?’

  Old anger reared its head and this time she couldn’t lie. ‘No, I didn’t have a daddy.’

  ‘But everybody has a daddy,’ Chloe said emphatically. ‘Even if they don’t live with you, like Noah and Casey and River.’

  Anita was going to march down to the school in the morning and talk to the teacher. The older girls didn’t have a project like this at their city primary school because of this very issue. It was time the country caught up.

  ‘Write down Peter Smith and then pack everything up because we need the table for dinner.’

  But as she whipped up zucchini slice for the girls and a curry for her and Cameron, she couldn’t shift the image of her father standing in the front garden of their house surrounded by most of their furniture carefully labelled with the price tags he’d asked her to make while her mother lay on her bed, sobbing. Memories came thick and fast. Their neighbours walking through the house. The boy who wanted to buy her Derwent pencils and her father making her sell them. Her father threatening the men who clamped the wheel of their second car and towed their boat away. Her father telling her he was ‘just nicking down the shops, love’ and never returning. Moving houses, moving suburbs, moving schools.

  ‘Mmm, that smells good.’ Cameron walked into the kitchen and kissed her before pulling open the fridge and grabbing a beer. ‘I see the girls are watching crap TV. Everything okay?’

  She dumped basmati rice into boiling water. ‘Can I have a wine please?’

  ‘I just sat down.’ He threw her a hangdog look. ‘You’re closer.’

  ‘You’re lucky I love you.’ She poured herself a glass and sat down too. ‘Something happened at school pickup today and it threw me. A woman I’ve become friendly with, Tam Simpson?’

  Cameron showed no recognition at the name.

  ‘I work with her in the school garden and she teaches yoga … Anyway, she deliberately turned her back on me today for no apparent reason. Then Jess Kincaid mentioned Warrnbatt. Turns out, Tam’s a close friend of Jane Parry’s.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Cameron’s eyes had strayed to the Mingunyah Herald on the table.

  ‘You paid a fair price for the house, didn’t you?’

  He looked up then, his jaw jutting. ‘Bloody hell, Annie, of course I did. Where is this coming from? You know how hard I worked trying to sell that property. I showed it to people desperate to get a stake in the valley but it’s a weird design and it gets fog-bound in winter. People don’t want to pay big bucks when there’s a risk the river will fill it with mud and insurance companies won’t touch it. For the record—and you can tell this bloody Tam woman—Chris Parry came to me wanting to do a deal.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes. And he accepted my offer.’

  ‘Jess told me they just lost their house in Albury.’

  ‘Shit.’ Cameron took a long pull on his beer.

  ‘It all sounds horrible.’ She fiddled with the edge of the placemat. ‘I’ve never told you this, but when I was nine, my parents defaulted on their home loan. We lost the house. It changed my life. My father …’ She pushed back the anger and pain. ‘He ran. Abandoned us. My mother completely lost it and well, you know the rest.’

  She looked up imploringly. ‘Chris and Jane have three kids. I need to know we haven’t added to their pain in any way.’

  Sympathy crossed his face and he picked up her hand. ‘It was bad decisions, bridging finance and being too heavily geared that caused the Parrys’ problems. I promise you, we’ve helped them by diminishing their debt.’

  ‘So why is Tam treating me like I’m a social pariah?’

  ‘Finding a scapegoat is easier than accepting Chris is financially incompetent. Ignore the gossip. It was a private deal, so they’re only speculating on the price.’

  Memories shifted like sand, making her heart bleed. She may not know the Parrys but she knew their heartache. She’d lived the bewilderment and fear of watching everything familiar disappear.

  Draining her glass, she tried to keep her own apprehensions at bay. ‘Cam? Promise me nothing like that that will ever happen to us.’

  ‘With me at the helm? No way. I promise.’ He kissed her on the top of her head. ‘So how about dinner? I’m starving.’

  * * *

  Sarah and Alex drove a silent and black-eyed Gus home—Mason had apparently managed to land one blow. Even though it had almost killed both her and Alex, they followed Pamela’s advice about not quizzing him. They fed him, apologised for asking him to keep their separation a secret from Emma and Finn, told him they loved him and tucked him into bed. After leaving Gus’s room, they telephoned Emma’s host family in France and explained the situation before FaceTiming Emma. She cried. So did Sarah. Even Alex’s voice wavered. They offered to buy her a ticket if she wanted to come home.

  Half an hour after the offer, Emma sent a message. I want to stay in France.

  More than anything, Sarah wanted to jump on a plane and rush to her daughter but with everything else that was going on, it wasn’t possible. Instead, all she could do was accept the kind reassurances of Collette, Emma’s host mother, that she would keep a close eye on her daughter.

  While they were still reeling from the emotional fallout o
f the conversation with Emma, Finn surprised them by walking through the door two days early.

  ‘Hello, parents!’ He dropped his bag and hugged them both. ‘Thought you’d want to spoil me before the guys arrive.’

  They sat him down at the kitchen table and told him about their separation, the words no easier to say despite their increasing familiarity.

  ‘What does this mean for the business?’ Finn’s dark chocolate eyes flashed at them. ‘Is there even going to be a family business for me to be part of when I’ve finished uni?’

  The veins in Alex’s neck pulsed. ‘Your mother and I haven’t discussed what it means for the business yet.’

  ‘You’re messing with me, right?’ Finn looked disgusted. ‘How can you split up and not have talked about the business? I mean, it’s all the two of you ever talk about! We can’t have a meal without you discussing it. You are the business.’

  ‘I’m taking leave because of Gran,’ Sarah said, obfuscating. ‘And there’s a lot going on with your uncle and aunts and Gus … I don’t have the head space to deal with anything else right now.’

  Alex gave her a grateful but surprised look. Had he thought she’d spill the beans on why she’d really taken leave? But she was too battle scarred to play games any more; she just wanted to protect her kids. If she’d learned anything from this debacle, it was that Alex had the right to tell the kids about Kelly when he was ready and not be forced into it because someone else told all to score points or get off on salacious gossip.

  ‘I don’t plan to sell the business,’ Alex said carefully, as if he was swimming through shark-infested waters. ‘And if your mother wants to stay involved then we’ll find a way to work it out.’

  ‘Oh, right, so you can’t live together but you can run a business together?’ Finn made a derisive sound. ‘That’s fucked up. I’m going to bed.’

  When the echo of slammed doors faded, Alex said wryly, ‘That seemed to go pretty well.’