The closing credits rolled on GTK. The rest of the band were watching it at Tigger’s place, where a party was sure to be raging, but Mark had wanted to watch it with Charlie. ‘What did you reckon? Did your dad do all right?’
‘You look funny in black and white,’ Charlie said.
Mark chuckled. He could always trust Charlie to keep his feet on the ground.
The phone rang in the hallway. It’d be the band bragging about their performance. ‘Hey, guys,’ he said into the mouthpiece, ignoring the pips. ‘Yeah, it was real cool.’
There was a pause on the other end of the line and an intake of breath. Mark hesitated. He should have known the pips meant a long-distance call. It wasn’t the band.
‘Who is this?’
Still nothing, except an odd snuffling noise.
‘You’re wasting your money calling long distance. I’m going to hang up.’
‘Mark?’ The woman’s voice was trembling. ‘Is that you?’
The voice sounded familiar but he wasn’t sure. ‘Yeah, this is Mark.’
‘I never received your letters.’
The blood hammered in his head. He slumped onto the stool next to the phone table. ‘Catherine.’ Why was she calling? ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for? It’s all my fault.’ He talked quickly, frightened she’d hang up like her father had so many times. ‘I felt so guilty about Lara. If I hadn’t dragged her to Tasmania she’d still be alive. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t think about anything else for a while there. I tried to apologise in my letters.’
‘My dad, he must have thrown them all away. And Dave told me you tried to call.’ He could hear her crying down the line.
‘Shh, it’s okay. We’re talking now.’ After all the months of hurt and bewilderment, he felt nothing but relief to hear her voice again. To know he wasn’t responsible for her long silence.
‘It’s not okay. I’m angry with my father. And with …’ She paused. ‘I’m devastated to think I hurt you in any way. I never meant to. If I’d known—’
He hushed her gently, making soothing sounds down the line. ‘Darling Catherine, I thought I’d scared you off with my stupid lies. I was hurt I never heard from you, but I could understand why.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘About reporting Lara missing. I never got to do it.’
‘Oh, that. Annie …’ Her voice almost strangled the name. ‘She mentioned it. I wasn’t worried. Just confused.’
Mark tightened his grip on the receiver. ‘It was a stupid mistake. I was embarrassed and didn’t tell Dave the truth. When I went to the Huonville police station, I was recognised by a couple of teenagers. They started hassling me. Jesus, the whole place was still in bedlam after the fires and all they wanted to do was give me the third degree about The Scene. I tried to shake them off but they followed me. I couldn’t report Lara missing with them hanging around. Those kids would’ve run to the papers with any whiff of a scandal. It was stupid to lie to Dave, but I felt like an idiot, you know. Worried about teenagers when there was so much more at stake.’
‘I get it.’ Her voice was calmer, steadier.
‘Yeah, well. After Lara’s body was found, the police weren’t so understanding. The whole thing blew up in my face. I never want to lie again. Especially not to you. I—’ Mark stopped himself. He’d made a promise to Dave.
‘Come back, please. I’ve missed you so much.’ The yearning in her voice matched his own.
‘Who you talking to, Daddy?’ Charlie emerged from the lounge room.
Mark heard Catherine gasp. ‘Is that Charlie?’
‘You want to speak to him?’
‘Yes, please.’
Mark held the receiver out to Charlie. ‘You’ll never guess who. It’s Catherine.’
‘Cat? Really?’
Mark watched warily. Over the past year, Charlie had drawn her pictures, signing each one very carefully with his name, which Mark had posted with his letters. He’d told his son that Catherine thought they were great and sent him all her love. Another lie.
Charlie pressed the receiver to his ear. When he heard her voice, his face brightened. ‘I lost my front tooth …’
‘Yes, the Tooth Fairy came …’
‘Ten cents …’
‘I spent it on mixed lollies. A big bag of milk bottles and freckles and clinkers.’
As Mark listened, he began to relax. What he’d longed for this past lonely year had happened. Catherine was back in his life. And Charlie’s. Mark had a tour to get through but after that, just like his latest song, they were going home.
31
May 1971
Annie
The flames started slowly, licking their way through the dry grass and kindling. There was a moment of hesitation when the fire could either fizzle in a whisper of grey smoke or forge on to catch the larger sticks and branches. The orange glow increased, the flames licked at the carefully placed wood, snaking its way up until at last it reached the top, and exploded in a shower of sparks. For a moment Annie’s thoughts darted to another time, another fire. The smell of burning eucalyptus always conjured the fear and panic of that day. Tonight’s bonfire was different – a celebration deep in the heart of winter with a welcome warmth for all those gathered around in jackets, scarves, hats and mittens.
Michael whooped with glee. ‘See, I told you it’d work,’ he said to Eric. ‘You just gotta angle the wood right.’
‘But that was my idea, stacking the old palings like that. That’s why it went up.’
Annie sighed. Her oldest boys were always trying to outdo each other. Tonight the result was worth it. The kids shouted and squealed as they ran around the burning heap, some waving sparklers in the air. Cracker night was always exciting for the children, almost as much as Christmas. They could hardly wait for Dave to put a match to the fireworks. Her husband, always cautious around fire, had cleared a patch in the paddock for the Roman candles and set up bottles for the rockets.
There were always some who complained about cracker night – it wasn’t safe, it scared the dogs and spooked the horses – so Annie had invited all the neighbours. Many families had turned up with thermoses of tea, marshmallows for the kids to toast, and more fireworks. Annie searched the faces in the glow of the fire, hoping to see Catherine’s among them. She was disappointed, again.
Dave hugged her from behind. ‘The boys did really well,’ he said, a note of fatherly pride in his voice.
‘You sure it’s okay to let Michael light the rockets?’
‘He’s thirteen now, and’ll do a good job, I’m sure.’
Still, Annie worried. The government had banned the sale of double bungers this year. The stories of children losing a finger or of being badly burnt always concerned her. ‘Angela, darling,’ she called to her daughter. ‘Come closer to Mummy, that’s the way.’
‘The apple wood is burning well.’ Dave smelt of smoke.
‘At least it’s good for something.’
They’d grubbed out more apple trees from the Fletchers’ old place. The trees were past their prime anyway, but it was a sign of how troubled the industry was when not even the Cleopatras could get a decent price. Another shipping strike hadn’t helped. Over a hundred ships were tied up in Australian ports all because some stewards had been fired.
‘We’ll be okay,’ Dave said. ‘This new stabilisation scheme will help.’
‘How, exactly? If we ever get decent prices again, we’ll have to pay it back to the government. I don’t see the point.’
‘Well, at least it’ll help us get through this year.’ He straightened up. ‘Now, I think it’s time we put on a show. Come on, kids. Who wants to see some fireworks?’
The children came running, faces flushed from the bonfire and eyes wide with excitement. Annie kept a protective hand on her daughter as Michael lit the first rocket, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he concentrated on the task. The rocket flew
into the sky, exploding into a shower of gold and red. Dave let Eric light one of the Roman candles, and Michael, not to be outdone, launched another rocket into the clear night sky. When the light show was over the kids were given rows of tom thumbs to throw into the fire. Annie was keen to get Angela away from the pops and bangs of the crackers. The bonfire had settled into itself, the glowing coals sending out a steady heat, but only feet away the winter night was bitter.
As they picked their way across the paddock by torchlight, Annie’s thoughts turned to Catherine. She wasn’t surprised Jack and Judith Turner hadn’t turned up tonight. They’d be tucked up in bed by now with hot water bottles warming their feet. But Catherine was a different matter. She’d always loved cracker night and since her return to the valley had never missed one. Even last year, without the company of Mark and Charlie, she’d been here helping the smaller children with their sparklers and admiring the fiery display in the sky. Now she wouldn’t even talk to Annie. She’d turned up at the packing shed each afternoon after school to help with the harvest but kept contact to a bare minimum. It hurt, but Annie knew she’d brought it on herself. Destroying Mark’s letter had been a risk, but there was no alternative. As soon as she’d read his words to Catherine about no more lies, Annie had panicked and thrown it in the fire. For the first few months she’d been on edge, but as time went by she’d begun to relax, believing the danger was over. She was wrong. Why did Mark have to become famous again? Didn’t he come to their orchard to get away from all of that? Why did he have to be on that stupid TV show, looking like a hippie with his long hair and beard, singing a sappy song about making his way home? Catherine need never have known. But instead here they were, enemies instead of friends.
Back in the house, Annie helped Angela wash the last of the toasted marshmallows from her sticky fingers and brush her teeth. She popped her into a clean pair of pink pyjamas, nicely warm from the clothes airer, and tucked her into the small bed in the corner of their bedroom. They’d been hoping to build an extension on the house, but the prices for apples were dismal. Annie had thought about asking her parents for help but couldn’t bring herself to beg. Instead, Dave, with some help from Michael and Eric, was painting the sunroom pink. It would be a pretty room when they were done, but even so Annie would miss having Angela in the same room where some nights she’d stay awake just to watch her daughter sleeping.
The house was silent, but Annie’s thoughts were in turmoil. She wasn’t the only one who’d lied to Catherine. The rift between Catherine and her father was worse than ever. Annie didn’t care if they never made amends, but she urgently needed to be reunited with Catherine before Mark came back. Clearly he hadn’t told her yet; he must be waiting until he returned to the valley. Then she was sure he’d reveal everything. She had to make Catherine listen to her side first. Annie checked her daughter. Angela’s breath was calm and even, indicative of a deep sleep. Annie so rarely had a moment to herself, let alone the ability to do something without her family knowing. This might be her only chance. She agonised about leaving Angela, but at four years old she was too heavy to carry all that way. Better she stay here, safe and asleep. Annie grabbed the torch and quietly left the house.
The gravel of the driveway crunched under her feet as she avoided the ruts and potholes leading to Catherine’s door. The faithful old Hillman sat beside the house as usual, but behind it was a car Annie didn’t recognise. Curious, Annie crept up the steps to the verandah. She could hear Catherine speaking, along with the low murmur of a male voice. Annie peeked in the window. The lamp in the lounge room cast a dim glow. Catherine sat at one end of the small couch and next to her was a blond, long-haired man. Was that Tim? Annie was baffled. Catherine had treated Annie like a pariah over that letter, never believing Annie’s claims that it was a simple mistake, yet here she was getting cosy with another man, with Mark all but forgotten. Annie felt something shift inside her.
She knocked. ‘Catherine, it’s Annie. Just wanted to check you got our invitation to cracker night.’
Catherine opened the door. Her face was tight. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We missed you tonight.’ She peered inside. ‘Tim? Of all people. I didn’t expect to see you here.’
Catherine took a step backwards. ‘He was just leaving.’
Tim didn’t take his eyes off Catherine. ‘But I love you.’
‘We’ve been over this. You don’t love me. You’re in love with your idea of me.’
‘Please, Catherine. We had such plans. You and me in Bali. The beaches and the dragon fruit.’
Annie was transfixed by the scene playing out in front of her. Tim might be good looking, but he’d always been slightly unhinged.
‘They were your plans. Not mine.’
‘But—’
‘Please, Tim.’ Catherine’s voice was cold. ‘Just leave.’
Tim had the look of a man who knew he was beaten. ‘All right, I’ll go.’ He picked up his jacket from the arm of the couch, then paused by the doorway, addressing Annie for the first time. ‘Try to change her mind, please. I know she digs me. No woman can do the things we’ve done without being in love.’
Annie shut the door behind him, thinking hard about what to say. Catherine stood, arms crossed, glaring at her.
Annie had some ammunition. But would she use it? She’d come here to try to patch things up, not make them worse. ‘That was unexpected.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘I was hoping you’d come to cracker night. It’s not the same without you. Nothing is.’
‘You should have thought of that before.’
‘It was one small mistake. I honestly thought I’d given you the letter.’
‘How dare you talk to me about honesty? Why didn’t you tell me about Mark’s calls to Dave? He rang constantly, desperate to get a message to me.’
‘I thought it was for the best. Least said, soonest mended.’
‘What does that even mean?’ Catherine’s face was white with anger. ‘He loves me, Annie. Mark loves me. And I might never have known. I spent a year in agony, despising myself because he’d rejected me. I thought I’d be alone for the rest of my life. I only did this—’ she flung out an arm, words escaping her for a moment, ‘— this thing with Tim because of that. I just wanted to be with a man. To know what it was like. And it felt good. I felt good. Powerful, you know?’
Annie knew too well. It had led to a shotgun marriage.
‘But it never would have happened if you’d been a true friend. If you hadn’t lied.’ Catherine almost spat the words at her.
‘You don’t understand,’ Annie pleaded. This wasn’t the scenario she’d painted in her head. She’d imagined the two of them talking out their differences and becoming friends again. Only then could she trust Catherine with the truth. ‘There are things you need to know but—’
‘Now you want to tell me things? You deliberately kept information from me knowing how heartbroken I was. How could you?’
‘It’s Mark. Not me.’ Annie’s voice rang high and shrill in her head. ‘He could ruin everything. I’m just trying to protect my family.’
Catherine frowned, as if calculating Annie’s words and coming up with an odd equation.
Panic rose in Annie’s chest. ‘Forget what I said.’ How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly? Frantically she tried to think of a way to turn it around. Her frenzied mind found another tactic. ‘He could make trouble for you.’
Catherine paused. ‘Who, Mark?’
‘Tim. What would your dad say? What would people think?’
‘My father thinks what he likes, most of it lies.’ Catherine glowered. ‘And as for the rest? I really don’t care.’
‘But what if Mark knew?’ The threat lingered in the room like the cloying stench of rotting apples.
Catherine stared at Annie, fierce and unflinching. ‘I’ll tell him myself. I have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not as if we were married. He and I will have no
secrets between us. No lies.’
Annie swayed. The light changed as if darkness was pressing around her. She found the solid door behind her and reached for the knob. Catherine stood, strong and proud. Annie remembered the first time they’d met. Catherine had been barely a teenager, awkward and shy, hiding behind her long straight hair. Annie had sensed a need in her, a yearning to connect, despite her parents’ initial disapproval of any friendship between them. Annie, knowing friends would be hard to find in the small and close-knit community, was keen to nurture that connection. Catherine could be the younger sister Annie had always wanted but never had. The idea especially appealed since her own family had so recently rejected her. Catherine had eagerly fallen into the role and Annie had relished taking her under her wing.
But who was Catherine now, this woman of the world, so certain of herself? Catherine was a stranger to her, and dangerous. When Mark returned that threat would grow. Together, there was nothing Catherine and Mark couldn’t destroy. Her thoughts fled to Angela tucked up in bed, alone in the house. What had she been thinking? Without another word, she rushed back out into the frigid night.
32
July 1971
Catherine
The fallen leaves crackled under Catherine’s feet as she walked through the orchard. Her breath hung in a heavy cloud just beyond her lips and frost remained in the shadows, even past ten in the morning. The trees were all but naked – only a few tenacious leaves, brown and withered, still clung to branches here and there, a reminder of the season past. She and her father had begun the pruning last month to remove the unwanted growth and to help control the crop for next season. More pruning remained to be done in the short, cold afternoons after school but the coming season held promise. Yesterday, while her father ploughed the dirt, Catherine had bent her back to the thankless task of hoeing around the trees. They maintained a cold civility, for the sake of the orchard, but little more.
The Last of the Apple Blossom Page 21