Prodigal Daughter

by Jane Carter

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sure the kids wouldn’t turn on a tap to make mud pots.’ Diana couldn’t help feeling a little defensive.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Stella stood horrified at the huge pond surrounded by muddy edges where the children had been playing.

  Tom came up behind her. ‘Bloody hell. Bloody kids, what have they done?’

  Diana rounded on him. ‘My children haven’t done anything.’

  ‘They certainly have. They think water’s free round here. It isn’t. It bloody costs a fortune. I can’t believe this. They need a whacking, well and truly. Milo, what did you think you were doing? Of all the stupid irresponsible things …’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to my kids like that.’

  ‘I’ll go and get a shovel.’ He turned and stomped back down towards the machinery shed.

  ‘Milo, did you turn on the tap?’ Diana asked. ‘Sienna, Saskia, what happened?’

  ‘No, Mum, we just came up here and found it,’ said Milo.

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t their fault,’ Stella said, staring at the pond. ‘It’s just that this is the last thing we need right now. Damn the water.’

  Diana looked after her father. That was so unfair, to blame the kids.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ‘So it was a pipe joiner?’ Stella asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Tom was exhausted and not very forthcoming. He and Mal had worked for the last two hours, digging, searching for the leak and draining the water away before they could fix the leaky pipe. Her husband was white-faced and looking old and tired. It was so worrying. He wasn’t himself at all.

  Stella had had to go pick up Peg, as Diana and Rosie were cooking. Now Diana was annoyed because she felt the children had been blamed, unfairly as it turned out. They’d had to wait to eat and the meat was overdone. Phillipa hadn’t turned up after all and Rosie was upset. What a day. All Stella wanted was to walk away from it all and go to Cody’s grave and spend some time with her. But if she left everything where it stood this afternoon it could easily implode. It was like standing on a knife edge.

  Damn them all.

  She made a decision. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve had enough. I’m going for a walk. Thank you for lunch.’

  If she hadn’t been at the point of exploding, she would have found the stunned faces amusing. As it was she could hardly raise a smile, her face felt all stiff with making an effort. No more, she was out of here.

  Stella grabbed a coat and pulled on her boots. Not the bike, not in the mood she was in. She walked down round the back of the shed and took the path through to the pine paddock. They’d called it the pine paddock after the row of pine trees Frank had planted as a wind break. The trees were old and gnarled, and thin on top after all these years, but they were solid still. And they were the way to Cody. A flock of cockatoos flew up and squawked in annoyance until Stella had passed and they indignantly regained their positions.

  Just walk. Don’t think. Tom, it was Tom she was mad with. Why did he have to go off at the children like that? He was always going off at everyone, her too. All the kids did was play in the mud. She blew out a breath.

  Four generations had been at her table today. It wasn’t the greatest mix. Peg was querulous and demanding; the children, quiet and nervous. Sienna had worn the Maid Marion dress and Saskia the fairy princess costume, but all that had done was make Stella feel like crying every time she’d looked at them, remembering her girls at that age. Rosie was upset because of Philly’s no-show. Tom and Mal were tired from all that digging. To top it off, Diana had been so determined to cook a lovely meal, and she didn’t like it when things didn’t pan out.

  Cody, help me.

  * * *

  Bed was very enticing that night. Stella was in it before Tom, for once. He hadn’t apologised and she was so fed up. It was as though he didn’t think before he said these things. She knew Tom had been exhausted and worried, but it didn’t mean he could go off and yell abuse at everyone. Damn him.

  The bed dipped, and she felt Tom’s body slide under the covers. She was so angry, her whole body was stiff. She reached over and turned off the light. Outside the wind had come up. Rain, rain, rain, if only it would rain.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Diana.’ Tom’s voice came out of the dark. ‘I said it wasn’t the children, just that I didn’t need anything else to go wrong at the moment.’

  Stella didn’t reply.

  ‘Sorry, Stell, Mother’s Day and all. It wasn’t too hot, and most of it my fault.’ His hand slid over and touched her hip. ‘Come and give me a hug. I just want to tell you you’re the best mother, grandmother and daughter-in-law I’ve ever known.’

  She rolled over into his arms.

  ‘And I couldn’t do this fathering thing without you.’

  Stella wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. ‘Sometimes, Tom Crawford, you are impossible.’ She buried her head in his chest and felt his strong arms tighten around her.

  ‘I know, Stell, I know.’

  * * *

  Diana lay in bed and carefully pulled the covers up over Saskia and herself. If she turned over again she’d probably wake Sassy, and she didn’t want to talk to any one right now.

  Except Charlie. Oh she missed Charlie.

  Things don’t always go as planned, Diana.

  I just wanted Mum to have a good day, thank her. It was a total disaster.

  Just be thankful you’ve always got tomorrow. It’s more than I’ve got.

  Quietly she edged over to her side of the bed and got out. She crept down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. What a mistake, she should have never … no, that wasn’t right, she should have come back. It was a mistake, though, to think about staying. She could never live with her parents. Today had shown her that.

  She’d never seen her father go off quite like that at the kids before. They were devastated. Then her mother disappearing up the hill to sit by Cody’s grave gave her the creeps. Diana was so glad she hadn’t buried Charlie. His ashes were still in London but there was something about knowing he hadn’t been permanently covered up. Cradling the warm cup in her hands, she walked around the kitchen, restless. She looked out the window into the darkness. Why couldn’t she sleep? She’d never had trouble sleeping before Charlie died.

  Because she’d always been able to escape to her wheel, that’s why. And pot until morning, if she felt like it. Charlie had never got mad with her. He’d had to put up with a lot.

  She rinsed out the cup and went back to bed.

  * * *

  Stella came in from the garden the next day with her empty buckets to find Diana reading the local newspaper.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Your father has suggested we all go to the picnic races. He thinks it would be good for you to get out and see some people.’

  ‘Me?’ Diana looked up. ‘He is such a fraud. He’s the one who needs to go. I’ve been poking and prodding him for days. What’s changed his mind?’

  ‘Atonement. He’s sorry about yesterday.’ Not that he’d said it. What he’d said last night was as far as she’d got in the way of an apology. What went on in Tom’s mind these days was a total mystery to her. ‘But I don’t intend to give him any room to change his mind. I’ve rung Patrick to let him know we’re coming.’

  ‘So we’re invited to his tent? Who else will be there?’

  ‘He has a brother, Sean, and his wife Marnie. From what Rosie tells me there’ll be a lot of locals.’

  ‘What do we need to take?’ Diana asked. ‘Rosie and Mal are coming too.’

  ‘Patrick told me not to worry about food.’

  ‘We should still take some things for the kids, so they don’t disgrace themselves. Or us, more to the point’.

  ‘Good thinking.’ Stella laughed. ‘Sean has a couple of kids too. I think they’re much the same age as yours. I can’t wait to show my grandchildren off to everyone. Now, what have you got to wear?’

  ‘Not a lot. I’ll think about it. So how does thi
s Patrick really get along with Dad?’

  ‘They do a lot of talking. I think Patrick uses your father as a sounding board. I’m not sure he wants to go with the hops project, though.’

  ‘Hops? What hops?’

  ‘Patrick wants to grow hops and wants your father to join him.’

  ‘Dad grow hops? I’ve never heard of anyone growing hops around here. How ridiculous.’

  ‘Mal’s thoughts exactly.’

  This was just what Diana needed, Stella thought. She couldn’t fool her, as if she didn’t know how Diana was hurting. Dark, shadowed eyes meant sleepless nights, and there’d been another cup of tea at two this morning. Fresh air and sunshine was all well and good, but now she needed people.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘Milo, where are you?’ Diana walked into the kitchen followed by her girls.

  It had seemed to take hours for her and the kids to get ready. Diana bent down and brushed a mark off her short black skirt, and gave a quick satisfied look over her Harvey Nic boots. The white silky top she had borrowed from her mother was a little tighter than she would have liked, but definitely more dressy than anything she had with her. No hat, no sir. Rosie was wearing one of those feathery fascinators but Diana wasn’t going down that road. ‘Milo!’

  ‘We’re here.’ Her father came in the back door with one of Milo’s boots in one hand and the polish in the other. ‘Can’t have a grandson of mine going out with dirty boots, now can we?’

  Milo limped in behind him, the other boot still on his foot.

  They were going out to the farm where the races were held a little early, to help set up. Diana thought the children would enjoy being part of it all.

  ‘Could you help me with this?’ Stella held out a necklace.

  ‘Turn around. I remember that, you’ve had it forever,’

  ‘It was my mother’s. One day it will be yours.’

  Diana flushed. That was the first time her mother had ever promised her anything.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ The necklace was yellow topaz stones set in silver, and lay flat, circling her mother’s neck. Diana touched the smooth surface softly. ‘Thank you, but it looks great on you.’

  She and her mother exchanged a smile. It was odd. She was touching base with her mother after all these years. Perhaps it was for the first time—she’d been more inclined to exchange confidences and take problems to her grandmother in her teenage years. If only she’d stop trying to talk about Charlie.

  ‘You don’t think this is too tight?’ Diana loosened the pashmina to show her mother the top.

  ‘It looks a good deal better on you than it does on me.’ Stella laughed. ‘Do the children have their coats? It might get cold later. I’ve got the slices in the esky and drinks for the children. Tom, could you put the eskies in the ute. I think we’re ready.’

  With Milo hopping to put his boot on, they filed out the back door. They took two cars—Stella and Diana went with the two girls, and Milo and Tom followed in the ute.

  ‘I’d forgotten it was such a long way in from the road.’ Diana smiled as her first glimpse of the racecourse came into view. ‘It reminds me of the county fairs in England.’

  In the middle of the paddock, a race track had been defined by a double post-and-rail fence with a mown strip in between. The far side was lined festively with a row of white tents with blue roofs.

  ‘Mum, Sassy’s squashing me. Tell her to stop.’

  ‘Hey Sassy, we’re nearly there, hold it will you?’ Diana half turned around, but all she could see was Sienna’s scowl and an innocent Saskia face.

  ‘There are so many more cars than I remember.’ Stella was leaning forward to inspect the crawling queue before them. ‘It’s ages since we’ve been.’

  It didn’t look as though they were going to get anywhere fast. ‘Tell me more about this Patrick,’ said Diana.

  ‘He’s an interesting man,’ said Stella. ‘I think he likes to come to his farm and tune out, get away from city pressures. Luckily for us, he was around that weekend of the bushfire.’ Stella gave a little shiver.

  ‘Oh yes, you were telling me the other day. That was only a year after you came to stay, when Saskia was born.’ Diana made a wry face. ‘I wish I’d been a nicer person when you came to stay that time. I was so cranky and tired. I left you to Charlie’s company mostly. We didn’t do any of the things I had planned.’

  ‘Not surprising, when you’d just given birth and had two other littlies running around.’ Stella reached over to touch her knee. ‘I didn’t want to do things, just be with you and see where you lived and get to know Charlie a bit better. And get to know my grandchildren,’ she added, with a smile at the girls in the back seat.

  And want to know when we were coming home. That still rankled.

  After parking the cars, they unloaded the eskies and trooped past the horse stalls, made of treated pine poles draped with hessian and decorated with eucalyptus branches. Some horses stood quietly in their shady stalls, seemingly asleep, while others snorted and looked around, their eyes wild. There were already a few bookies, set up under the trees with their chalk boards and leather bags. Further over was a hodgepodge of old-fashioned green tents, camper chairs and fold-up tables that people had brought themselves.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Milo asked, his eyes wide with excitement. He and Sienna were following Diana along, carrying an esky between them. They paused outside a timber pavilion that housed the bar and the jockey’s rooms.

  Diana asked for directions from a red-headed young man in a smart jacket with Official on his tag.

  He pointed. ‘Lot 37 is over there, third tent along.’

  Fashion was quite dressy, Diana noticed, as she walked along. Girls stumbling along on high heels, wore shiny tight cocktail dresses with fascinators perched on top of their heads. The day was quite chilly and they’d probably freeze to death.

  Oh dear, Diana bit her lip. She was feeling her age.

  The tent the official had pointed out was obviously brand new, with white walls and a blue roof. It was empty except for a man and woman unloading glasses onto a trestle table covered in a white cloth. The man looked around. He was dark-haired with blue eyes and a slightly hooked nose. Diana smiled hesitantly. This must be Patrick. She held out her hand.

  ‘Are you Patrick? I’m Diana Crawford.’

  He looked confused.

  ‘Ah welcome, Diana, you’re early,’ came a voice from behind.

  She whipped round. The man behind her held out his hand. His eyes were very blue.

  ‘I’m Patrick, and that’s my brother Sean,’ he said with a lopsided grin. ‘And I recognise you from the photo in the front hall. Stella and Tom are with you?’

  There was no mistaking his heritage. Patrick spoke with a full Irish lilt. ‘I think they’ve been held up along the way, chatting.’ For some reason she felt nervous. ‘This is Milo and Sienna.’

  ‘I must introduce them to my nephews. Sam, Alex, come over. Tom’s grandchildren are here.’

  Two boys skidded to a halt at the group and were introduced. The children eyed each other up and down. Sam appeared to be the oldest but both he and Alex were like peas in a pod with the Morley blue eyes and dark curly hair.

  Patrick squatted down. ‘My nephews haven’t been here before either, so take a look around and get your bearings and then go and explore. I’d stay away from the horses.’

  Diana opened the esky. ‘Just help yourselves.’

  They clustered like bees round the esky and each grabbed a drink. Then the four were off like a shot.

  Without the children, the tent seemed suddenly cavernous. Diana was conscious of Patrick standing beside her. He had a quizzical look in those blue eyes. He was sizing her up, no doubt about it. She turned to Sean and tried to concentrate.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Diana. I don’t often get taken for my brother, I’m flattered.’ Sean’s grin was all cheeky younger brother but he’d lost his accent somewhere along the way. The
Morley brothers wore identical, crisp cream chinos and striped open-necked shirts and riding boots. It might be all RM Williams but they still looked different from the locals. Maybe it was because they weren’t wearing ties. Diana looked around; everyone over the age of fifty-five was wearing a tie—that hadn’t changed.

  A young woman threw her bag and hat over a chair. ‘I haven’t been to a picnic races before. Everyone looks so happy. This is going to be so much fun.’

  ‘Marnie, let me introduce you to Diana, Tom’s daughter,’ Patrick said.

  Sean’s wife was friendly, with her younger son’s smile. Two more men arrived, carrying boxes and more eskies. There were more eskies than people.

  Patrick was still looking at her intently. ‘It’s good to meet the famous Crawford sister at last,’ he said.

  Diana smiled. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. But it’s good to meet you. My parents talk about you constantly.’

  ‘And that would be very complimentary, I hope?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Patrick laughed and winked at her. ‘It’s all the whiskey I give them. I’ve made very sure of my welcome.’

  Marnie handed him a bottle. ‘I need space for the dips and breads. Let’s open the Prosecco, Patrick.’

  The tent filled up with neighbours of Tom and Stella, people Diana hadn’t seen for twenty years. Patrick was a good host. He certainly seemed to know everyone’s name, as just about everyone in the district flitted in and out of the tent. But it was a strange twist in the dynamics of country life—city money entertaining the country people. Still, something had to have changed in the last twenty years.

  ‘I was sorry to hear of your loss.’ Patrick was beside her, offering a refill.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Stella and Tom were very happy you decided to come home.’

  Diana looked at him and then away. ‘We’re just here for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I think they’re hoping it will be longer.’

  Diana watched as he made his way around the tent. He was very up-to-date with her situation. Then she remembered Mal was working for him too. No wonder he knew her family history. She wished Charlie was here. Suddenly there was a sharp pain twisting inside her. She could imagine him over there, head bent, talking to Marnie; he would have loved Marnie. She wanted him to be there so much she felt faint.