by Trish Morey
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said the doctor. ‘It’s often only when something major happens that the pieces suddenly add up.’
Beside her Dan nodded. ‘So how much of this do we tell her? Or do we not tell her at all and we just pretend everything is normal?’
The doctor nodded. ‘Not even that’s easy. Some patients are actually relieved to have a diagnosis, because it explains things they’ve been secretly worried about for a while but afraid to share with anyone. Others might not take it so well. But you’re her family and you know Joanie better than anyone. What would she want? And ask yourselves what you’d want to know in the same circumstances.’
‘Oh God,’ said Hannah, ‘I’m with Pop. I’d shoot myself if I had a diagnosis like that.’
‘Or you might,’ said the doctor, ‘just decide to finally go on that world cruise you’d been promising yourself all your life.’
They all looked aghast, but the GP just shrugged. ‘It might take a little more organisation and a few more precautions, but it can be done.’
Pop nodded. ‘Joanie always loves going up the river to Mildura. I reckon she might fancy a bus trip up that way.’
The doctor looked levelly at them all. ‘So, maybe this is something you want to plan sooner rather than later.’
44
Sophie
‘And I still say there’s nothing wrong with me!’
‘It’s not up to you, though, is it?’ said Pop, sitting in his chair opposite Nan on the verandah as Sophie put mugs of tea and a plate of Yo-Yo biscuits on the table between them. ‘It’s what the doctors say, and they all say you’ve got old-timer’s disease.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Nan, puffing out her chest. ‘I’m not having it.’
‘You don’t get a bloody choice, woman! And the sooner you get that through your head, the better.’ He snorted. ‘And to think I thought you deserved a weekend away!’ Pop gave another snort and said he was heading off to the shed, while Nan appealed to her youngest granddaughter. ‘It’s not true, is it, Sophie. It’s all a load of codswallop. I’m perfectly fine.’
Sophie’s heart was breaking. It was exhausting. The debate had been raging for a week, ever since they’d got the results from the tests the specialist had ordered and the diagnosis delivered. As a family they’d battled with the question of how much to tell Nan, but in the end it had seemed unfair to pretend to her that all was well, and impractical not to tell her when Dan had been making the house more secure.
But now, Nan was in denial and Pop was frustrated and determined to shake her out of it. Though, Sophie thought, he could have handled it slightly less combatively.
‘You are fine, Nan, most of the time.’ And that was the problem right there, because nobody knew when she’d wander again or something else would come unplugged from her brain. ‘It’s just, there are times when you forget where you are or what you’re doing, and those are the times we’re worried about.’
‘But I don’t want to be locked away inside one of those nursing homes.’
‘And there’s no reason why you should, not if we can help it. Which is why Dan’s been busy this week fixing things up. You won’t be able to wander off without a bell ringing, so Pop will know you’re outside, and we’ll know you’re safe.’
Dan had been busy doing more than that, though. He’d put bolts up high on the doors so Nan couldn’t reach them and get out at night, and he’d put a new lock on the gate so that Nan couldn’t slip away if she went out the back to hang up the washing or feed the chooks.
Nan was even sporting a pretty MedicAlert bracelet that should help her get home if she somehow did manage to escape.
Nan was topping up their tea when Sophie felt it, a fluttering in her belly, like the beat of butterfly wings deep inside. She put the pot down and put a hand to her belly. Oh my …
‘What is it?’ said Nan. ‘You’ve come over all strange-looking.’
‘I felt something,’ she said, struck by this new sensation. ‘I felt something move.’
Nan smiled and patted her arm. ‘It’s the quickening, that’s what it is. The first tiny flutters of your baby moving.’
Sophie smiled, feeling a mix of wonder and awe. It was really there, this new life she’d inadvertently created. It was there and it was moving and she could feel it. ‘I’m only fifteen weeks. I didn’t expect to feel anything so soon.’
‘Your baby’s just saying hello to you,’ Nan said with a sigh. ‘Letting you know it’s there and that everything’s going well. I remember the first time I felt your father move, and I knew right then, I knew at that very moment that everything would be all right. And it was too—for the most part.’ She sniffed and searched for a tissue up her cardigan sleeve, before she turned watery eyes on Sophie. ‘I miss your father every day, you know. I think of him and I miss him terribly.’
‘Aw, Nan, I know.’ Sophie reached over to hug the older woman, noticing how slight her nan felt under her hand when she’d always thought her soft and ample, and pressed her lips to Nan’s forehead. ‘I miss him too.’
‘It’s not right, you know,’ Nan said, her voice quaking as she blew her nose. ‘No mother should ever have to bury her own child.’
Sophie rocked her nan while she had a little weep, and not for the first time, Sophie found herself cursing Nan’s damned disease. For if dementia was going to suck your memories out one by one, it might at least take away the ones that hurt the most first.
45
Beth
Beth had initially been embarrassed when Harry had noticed the gutters on the cottage needed cleaning out, especially when it was so far into fire season and they should have been cleared weeks ago. But while she’d never had a fear of blood or spiders, heights had always given Beth the creeps. She’d never been like Sophie, who’d been clambering up and down cherry-picking ladders from the time she could walk, and so the gutters at Beth’s place tended to get ignored for way too long.
But with a forecast of heatwave conditions on the way, embarrassment had swiftly given way to relief. She’d been grateful when Harry had offered to help, because there was no way she was getting up a ladder to do them herself, and it wasn’t like she could ask Sophie to help in her condition.
A scant two hours after he’d started and with the gutters cleared, Harry now manned the barbecue cooking sausages and chops, while Beth whipped up salads, and Siena buttered bread and set the outdoor table for three. Just a simple dinner to repay Harry a little for all his hard work and save him from having to rustle something up when he got home, that was all it was, even if he did have to man the barbecue himself.
Beth sighed and took a sip of her cool white wine as she sat back in her chair, still glowing from the satisfaction that morning of helping a baby come into the world in the back of her ambulance. Watching a new life be born definitely beat their usual battle to save lives; the first cry of the baby had left her with a warm feeling that lasted all day.
And tonight was the perfect evening to be outside. The afternoon summer temperature had moderated, and the gentle hills breeze kept any flies at bay. And her full-of-gum-leaves gutters were finally cleared.
For all its warts, and there were plenty of those, life was okay. And that was before Harry asked, ‘Back at school next week, Siena?’ as he reached for another sausage and a piece of bread to wrap around it.
‘Bleh,’ she said, rolling her head back theatrically. ‘Why does school take up your whole life? It’s so boring.’
Beth was about to laugh, but Harry just said quietly, ‘So what do you want to do when you leave school?’
‘Something with animals. I love animals. I’d love to be a vet like Aunty Hannah.’
Beth, who knew Siena loved horses but had never heard her daughter express anything about wanting to be a vet, sat up straight.
‘So you need your schooling, then,’ Harry said gently, as he laid a line of sauce down his sausage sandwich. ‘I hear they’re big on that for veterinary studies.’
‘Ugh,’ Siena said.
‘But it’s worth it,’ Harry countered. ‘I wish I’d known what I wanted to do back then, rather than just leaving school and drifting from one thing to another like I do.’
Siena blinked up at him. ‘Don’t you like what you do?’
‘I do,’ he said on a sigh, ‘but it’s not like I have any choice about things, because I never knew what I wanted to do and so I never went after it. You’re lucky if you know what you want to do, though that comes with obligations, too because then you have to go after it. Isn’t it worth a bit of schooling, even if it is boring at times?’
Siena looked up at him. ‘I guess.’
‘Thank you, Harry,’ Beth said later, as he was leaving with a container of potato salad and the leftover meat. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without you, lately. And not just about all the work you’ve done. Thanks for talking to Siena like that. She’s much more likely to listen to you than me. Kids always take more notice of adults who don’t happen to be their parents.’
Harry smiled his Hagrid smile and looked so endearing that Beth reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
A moment later she felt his big hands at her back. ‘Oh, Beth,’ he said, his gruff voice quavering, and suddenly his lips were on hers.
She should have stopped him then, but it was so unexpected and she was so shocked, and it felt kind of nice. It had been so long since she’d been held in a man’s arms and kissed.
He tasted of his after-dinner coffee, his breath warm against her skin, the brush of his beard adding another dimension, and sensation rippled through her, heady sensation, and it was all kinds of wonderful.
But it was all kinds of wrong.
She went rigid in his arms and pulled her mouth away, her breathing choppy. ‘You should go.’
‘But, Beth—’
‘Just go,’ she said, knowing she’d overstepped the mark, guilt descending like a heavy cloud.
Siena was still washing up when Beth grabbed a tea towel and started drying up, furiously attacking each plate.
‘So school next week, then? I suppose it’s time we organised stationery and uniforms and stuff.’
‘I guess,’ said Siena, sounding deep in thought, her hands swishing in the soapy water.
‘Hopefully, we can get another year out of your sandals and save that expense.’
Siena looked sideways up at her. ‘Are you going to marry him?’
Beth’s stomach lurched, her hands stalled on a cup. ‘What? Who?’
‘Who do you think? Harry. Are you going to marry him?’
Beth snorted to show how ridiculous the notion was. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Because he’s always here doing stuff or having dinner or watching telly with us.’
‘He’s just being neighbourly, and it would be rude not to at least offer him a meal.’
‘And he likes you.’
‘Like a friend.’
‘And you like him.’
She shrugged, turning to the cutlery, not wanting to think too much about that kiss. It was a mistake. An accident. It wouldn’t happen again. ‘As a friend, sure.’
‘You kissed him, just now.’
Oh, good grief, she’d seen that? ‘Were you spying on me?’ she said, trying to joke it away. ‘That was just a thankyou kiss, that was all that was.’
Siena looked up at her mother like she was stupid. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you did want to marry Harry, in case you were worried, I mean.’
Beth put the tea towel down on the bench. ‘This is crazy. I don’t know what’s put all this into your head, but it’s rubbish, okay? You finish up here, I’m going out to the studio.’
Out there in her space, Beth sorted through pieces of coloured tile while she ran the conversation through her mind over and over, searching for a key, searching for whatever it was that had sparked Siena’s foolish thoughts. Harry helped out about the place. So what? She invited him for dinner. Big deal. And it certainly wasn’t Beth whom he shared an interest in television with.
And the kiss was nothing. A peck on the cheek. That’s all she’d intended it to be, anyway.
It was laughable if it weren’t so ridiculous. Joe was the only man she’d ever been going to marry, and he was gone. She tried to picture him in her mind, tried to recall the picture she had on her bedside table, of Joe lying with her on a sofa, his arm wrapped possessively around her, and his dark eyes looking up at the camera as if declaring to the world, she’s mine.
Siena knew nothing.
It was Joe she’d been going to marry.
It was Joe she’d loved.
The clock ticked by and for a while the light through the windows glowed red over Mount Lofty as day moved spectacularly to night. Beth worked feverishly to organise the pieces before her, her hands moving fast, her eyes always scanning, selecting, to find the perfect piece for the perfect placement.
It had only ever been Joe. She had the hair right, she was sure. Black and thick and sexy as hell when she’d run her fingers through it. The hair was right, the angle of the chin almost there, but it was the eyes she was having trouble with. She shifted pieces around and still it eluded her. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of the picture, forcing herself to remember, trying to work out where she’d gone wrong. It shouldn’t be so hard to remember.
Only when she had it clear in her mind’s eye and when she could see him properly again, she opened her eyes to figure out where she’d made a mistake. And the sizzle of recognition became a thunderbolt as she realised what she’d done.
That it was Harry’s eyes looking back at her.
She gave a cry as she pushed away the unfinished work, staring at it aghast, her breathing coming fast and furious, before she snapped off the lights. Numbly, she walked back into the house. Siena was still up, the TV blaring in the lounge room beyond, even though it was after eleven and well after her bedtime. The moment Beth walked into the room, Siena sprang into action, the TV screen turning black.
‘I was just going to bed,’ she said, the worry that she was in serious trouble clear to read in her dark eyes. Joe’s eyes, Beth thought with a smile. They were right there all along. She pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed her head.
‘I love you, Siena, never forget that, okay?’
‘Uh,’ said her daughter. ‘I love you, too.’
‘I know.’ Beth released her after one last squeeze. ‘I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.’
‘Mum,’ Siena called after her, ‘are you all right?’
She found what she hoped was a smile. ‘Just tired.’
She undressed in the silvery light of the moon, and slid under the light summer bedcover to the cool embrace of her sheets, and whispered into her tear-dampened pillow, ‘I’m sorry, Joe.’
46
Sophie
Sophie hadn’t been thinking fond thoughts about Nick since Christmas, her conversation with Dan on the beach that day burrowed deeply in the back of her mind like a festering wound. Even petting the rapidly growing Whiskers on her lap couldn’t soften the edges of her resentment.
The nerve of the man, going behind her back to her brother.
The nerve of her brother, insinuating she wasn’t fit to be a mother, just because she wanted to prove that she could do this on her own. Her babies tumbled and kicked in her tummy. ‘Damn right,’ she said, giving them a pat before lifting the kitten from her lap, relieved to have at least that pressure off her bladder.
‘Time to go, babies,’ she said, collecting her things. School started back next week, so they’d agreed to doing her twenty-week scan one week early, and as much as she was looking forward to this latest peek at her babies, she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Nick, or to baring her expanding belly to him. One thing was for certain, though, there would be no hand holding this time. No leaning on him for support. She’d show him she was strong enough to do this on her own. Let him go bleat to her brother about that.
Nick looked at her. ‘Sophie?’
She blinked. He was actually asking her? ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Why spoil the surprise?’ And curse the man, but he nodded his agreement.
That’s what got her sitting opposite him drinking tea in the cafe afterwards, she figured. If he’d disagreed or argued or insisted on knowing, it would have fed that simmering bubble of resentment, and she would have blown him off and headed straight to school to prep for next week’s new batch of students. But he’d let her decide and he’d agreed with her decision.
Infuriating, really.
And she sure didn’t want to see that goofy expression on his face when he looked at the picture of the babies, like he was already falling in love with them.
She swallowed, remembering her brother’s words. They’re his flesh and blood, just as much as they’re yours.
Damn.
She glanced at her watch, seizing on the excuse. ‘I need to go, Nick. I’m due at school to prep for next week.’
He put down the picture, shifting in his chair, his expression a little pained. ‘Listen, Sophie, I’ve been thinking …’
Instantly her hackles went up. ‘Have you? About what?’
He clasped his hands together on the table. An entreaty? ‘A couple of things. Like what name the babies have.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too early to think about names yet. I haven’t got that far ahead.’
‘No, I meant their surname.’
‘They have one. The Faraday name is a perfectly good name.’
‘So is Pasquale.’
‘You’re not suggesting we hyphenate?’
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘God no, I hate double-barrelled surnames.’
‘Fine, Faraday it is. Was that all, because I really have to go.’
‘There is one more thing. I’ve been thinking, you’re about halfway along now, and it’s not going to get easier.’