by Kate Forster
‘I adore you, Tressa. Have some faith in me, please.’ He spoke softly and she kissed the top of his head.
‘I’m trying but you’re trying,’ she said, half-jokingly, and she pulled herself away and grabbed her bag and left him with his secrets.
*
Caro lay in the narrow hospital bed, her face as white as the sheet, while George sat napping next to her in an uncomfortable-looking armchair.
‘Perhaps we should go,’ whispered Tressa to Janet.
‘Don’t you dare,’ they heard Caro say from the bed as she opened one eye.
Tressa and Janet edged towards her as George let out an enormous snore that woke him up.
‘Goodness,’ he said as he saw them both on the other side of the bed.
‘Goodness indeed,’ said Janet sternly.
Caro laughed and then grimaced in pain.
‘I won’t ask how you are, as it’s evident,’ said Janet and Tressa was grateful for Janet’s sensible words and her presence. Seeing Caro so vulnerable on the bed made her heart ache and she wished for a moment it was her mother who was ill, not Caro. It felt terrible to think it.
Caro pressed a button on a remote she was holding and her bed lifted her to a sitting position.
‘Come here,’ she told Tressa, who approached the side of the bed.
‘Janet, take George for a cup of tea and something to eat. He hasn’t left my bedside since last night.’
Janet whisked George away with an efficiency that Tressa hadn’t seen in her before and Caro gestured Tressa to come closer still.
‘You’re in love,’ she stated.
Tressa nodded. ‘But he won’t stay. He’s too important for Port Lowdy and for me, but that’s okay,’ she said. Her voice betrayed her and her eyes stung with tears.
Caro put her hand out for Tressa to hold.
‘No one is too important for anyone,’ she said. ‘But this isn’t just about him. What else?’
Tressa shook her head. ‘I didn’t come to talk about my life, I came to check on yours. Good to see you’re still with us.’
Caro sighed and moved her head restlessly on the pillow. ‘It’s not over yet. I’m having that bloody chemo. That would kill anyone.’
‘It’s meant to keep you alive actually. I mean I don’t know much about it…’ Tressa heard her sentence lose momentum. Little Rosewyn had been given chemotherapy, and it hadn’t kept her alive.
She let go of Caro’s hand. ‘Look, I’m tired of you saying you’re going to die. It’s stupid and hard for those around you to hear. I wish you would stop it, because your predictions are more often wrong than right. You’re just guessing. I could guess anything and claim it was a prophecy. I understand you’re upset at this whole awful situation but playing the victim won’t help you.’
Caro turned her nose up at her. ‘And you’re not playing the victim? He’s too important for me? Who says that? Tell him to be honest with you and not have secrets about important things that affect you both. That’s a one-sided relationship.’
Tressa and Caro stared at each other and then both burst out laughing.
‘I miss you,’ said Tressa, a tear falling down her cheek.
‘I miss you too,’ said Caro. She smoothed down her bed hair and straightened her nightgown. ‘I’ll make you a deal,’ she said to Tressa.
‘Okay?’
‘You remind yourself you’re important and worthwhile regardless of anyone else’s opinion – and I will keep going with this whole chemo thing and promise not to be the Mistress of Doom.’
Tressa smiled at her friend and put out her hand. ‘Deal.’
They were sitting chatting about Port Lowdy and the television show when Janet and George returned.
Janet thought it was silly but George thought it would be good for the paper, while Tressa sat next to Caro and listened to their chatter.
Caro was right. She needed to tell Dan to step up and not have secrets and discuss their future. She was resolved from the hospital to the front door of Mermaid Terrace, right up until the moment Janet waved and left her to go and feed Ivy.
Dan was asleep on the sofa, his laptop open at a precarious angle. The bottle of whisky was on the coffee table, empty. Tressa quietly walked into the room and took the laptop from him and walked it to the kitchen table. She knew she shouldn’t look at what he was writing, but she did. For The Guardian submission, read the top line. Then the headline told her all she needed to know.
A Murderer in Port Lowdy
Young chef Remi Durand might seem like a blow-in but that is only because he is not wanted in his own country. Durand served seven years of a ten-year sentence for manslaughter.
Tressa closed the laptop and sat at the table. Dan was going to betray Remi. He had told Tressa and Dan his story, but he hadn’t wanted it to go any further. Dan Byrne was a user, a nasty lying prick, who was living in her house and writing stories about vulnerable people behind everyone’s back.
That was it. He had to go from Port Lowdy and as soon as possible.
31
‘Fifty first-class stamps please,’ Penny heard the customer ask and she looked up at the sound of his accent.
‘Hello, Penny,’ the man said and Penny promptly fainted.
When she came to, she was lying on the floor behind the counter and there was a flurry of people around her, all suggesting ideas for her recovery, from ambulances to a strong glass of brandy.
But Penny wanted neither. She sat up and looked to the man in front of her. He was still handsome, albeit with less hair, but those eyes still twinkled when he smiled at her, as he was doing now.
She slapped him.
She slapped him for all the lies he’d told her and all the times she had waited for him to return and for the sleepless nights worrying about how she was going to raise a child and for the days he missed out on in Tegan’s life.
‘Mum,’ Penny heard. She looked past him and saw Tegan holding Primmy, her face shocked at her mother’s behaviour.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘I deserved it.’ Penny started to get up, but her head felt dizzy again and she lay down.
‘Close the shop and everyone out,’ said Tegan, putting Primmy down. The child went and lay next to her grandmother, thinking it was a game.
Once everyone else had left the post office, Penny finally sat up and leaned against the counter.
‘You knew about this?’ she accused Tegan.
‘Paul contacted me after the television show was on. They showed it in Australia. Isn’t that amazing?’
‘Thrilling,’ Penny sneered.
‘I flew out the next day,’ said Paul, now sitting on the floor with Penny and Primrose. ‘I didn’t know, Penny – about Tegan or anything. I would have come back but I had to leave suddenly because my mum got sick. I wrote to you.’
Penny scoffed. ‘You never did.’
Paul reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an old notebook. He let it open where it fell.
‘Here are the dates I posted you letters and rang you and sent you telegrams. I tried for a year.’
Penny took the book and looked at his notes. Each one had a stamp next to it of the date the contact was made. She felt her eyes sting and she started to make a gulping sound.
‘Hiccups,’ said Primmy to Paul and she imitated her grandmother’s noises while Penny’s gulps turned into sobs.
‘Why? Why didn’t I get the letters?’ she stammered. ‘I live in a post office. It doesn’t make sense.’ She thrust the notebook back at him as though it burned.
Paul shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Penny. Did your parents ever mention them to you?’
‘No,’ Penny said. ‘Never.’
But inside she knew something wasn’t right. Not that Paul was lying but as though the veil had been pulled back on something bigger.
‘I went back because my mother was diagnosed with MS. I wrote to you and told you I could come back, or you could come to Brisbane. When I didn’t
hear from you I assumed you didn’t want to be with someone who was caring for their sick mum. After a year I stopped contacting you, because… I thought you would have written back, Penny.’
Penny couldn’t speak. She was crying so violently that her chest hurt.
‘Do you think it was Pa?’ Tegan asked. ‘I know you don’t want to think about him that way but there’s no other explanation.’
Penny knew Tegan’s words were true but she didn’t want to hear it. ‘Don’t speak about your grandfather that way,’ she snapped at her daughter.
Why was she being so loyal to him when he’d taken her future from her?
‘I have never seen any letters, and I know every inch of this house and shop,’ she said.
‘Why would he keep them, Mum? He would have got rid of them, or maybe Granny did.’
Penny shook her head. ‘My mother never did anything without Dad’s approval.’
Perhaps her father didn’t want her to leave him as he aged. If her father had destroyed the letters, she realised now, she had never been given a choice in her own life. Maybe that was why he’d been more understanding than she’d expected when she announced her pregnancy: because it made her even more reliant on him and she had to stay.
‘You missed out on so much,’ she said to Paul. Her throat burned from the bile in her throat.
‘I’m here now,’ Paul answered and behind him Penny saw Tegan wipe her eyes.
‘Come on, you three, off the floor. Let’s go upstairs and have a cup of tea and then we’ll all head to the pub later for dinner. Pamela has a table for us.’
Upstairs, Paul showed them the photos of his grandchildren, who were older than Primmy. He told Tegan about her half-sisters, Julie and Claire, and that his wife had passed away from cancer when she was in her forties.
Penny looked at the photo of his wife and thought she looked like a happy sort, who probably would have made him laugh and who could have organised an army and a dinner for six all at the same time.
Paul had become a camera salesman. Then he’d moved into hospital X-ray equipment. It had taken him all over the world, he told her. Until his wife died.
While he talked, he held Primmy, or touched Tegan’s arm and shoulder. His daughter smiled at him. He was as tall and as handsome as he’d ever been and Penny remembered how it felt to be in his arms those nights so long ago.
‘How did you come across the TV programme?’ she asked him.
‘It was my daughter Julie, actually. She knew I had been to Cornwall and said that she thought I might like it. I nearly fainted, like you, when I saw you all.’
He paused. ‘And then I was just so sad that I wasn’t here to know you all.’
There was silence in the room as the sun started to set. A lovely orange light came in and circled Penny on her chair.
‘If I had known…’ he said. ‘I would have…’
Penny put up her hand. ‘I know, you are a good person. I see that now.’
Tegan stood up and picked up Primrose. ‘Dad is staying at the pub, so we can head down if you like?’
‘Dad?’ It sounded so foreign to Penny. It was too soon, she was about to say – and then reminded herself that this wasn’t just about her.
Tegan deserved a dad. Primmy deserved a grandfather.
‘Let’s go,’ she said and she grabbed her coat and bag and they headed down to the Black Swan.
Being out in public felt nicer than Penny had expected. People even took photos of them posing together and Penny remembered what it felt like to have Paul’s arm around her shoulders.
They ate in the dining room, until Primrose became overtired and Tegan took her back to the post office.
‘I’ll see you later, Mum,’ she said and kissed her cheek. She whispered in her ear, ‘You have lovely taste in men.’
Then she kissed Paul goodnight and he stood up and gave her such a long hug that when Tegan pulled away, her cheeks were wet from tears.
Finally it was just Penny and Paul at their corner table.
‘She’s wonderful,’ said Paul. ‘She’s a real credit to you.’
Penny sipped her glass of white wine. ‘She is partly you, also.’
‘She looks like her sisters a little,’ he said and Penny felt a sting. She would have liked more children, but she had never even had another lover since Paul.
Pamela came to the table. ‘Dessert?’ she asked, holding two menus.
Penny looked at Paul, who shrugged. ‘Why not?’ he said, and she was glad he wanted to stay on longer.
‘Tell me about your mother?’ she asked.
‘She had MS, as I mentioned. It’s a horrible disease – so unfair.’
Penny nodded, not because she knew about the disease but because she knew about unfairness.
‘How long did she live with it?’
‘Ten years. I was her carer for most of it. Dad couldn’t cope and my brother was in Papua New Guinea working… so it just ended up being me and Mum.’
Pamela came back and Penny quickly glanced through the menu.
‘The lemon tart for me,’ she said and Paul ordered the chocolate pudding.
‘We can share,’ he said hopefully and Penny smiled.
‘I would love that,’ she said, and she meant it. It had been a long time since anyone asked her to share anything and she couldn’t think of anyone better to do it with.
32
When Dan woke as the sun set, he rubbed his eyes and saw Tressa sitting opposite him.
‘How long was I asleep?’ he asked. The sun certainly seemed lower, and the room was uncomfortably warm.
‘The rest of the bottle long,’ Tressa said and he remembered the whisky and groaned.
‘I think I’m going to give up drinking for a while,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
He sat up. Richie was lying at Tressa’s feet and Ginger Pickles was on the back of her chair: a female Francis of Assisi.
He stretched loudly. ‘What time is it? I’m supposed to meet—’
‘I don’t care what you do,’ she said. ‘Your things are packed and in your car. You can stay at the office until the next edition is finished and then you can go. I will be replacing you.’
‘What?’
Dan wasn’t sure if it was the light or the whisky, but Tressa looked beatific and his heart skipped a beat.
‘Tressa, darling, what’s wrong?’
‘I read your story on Remi,’ she said and before he could explain, she went on. ‘You betrayed him by writing that story, just so you can get your big career back. Do you even like me? You’re just using me, like you used Remi. You’re an awful person. That reporter was right about you. He told me how you use people to get ahead in life. You’re such a liar. Come to think of it, you probably did steal that money when you were nine.’
Dan sat in shock but Tressa hadn’t finished.
‘You don’t think about anyone but you. No wonder you were fired – you have no ethics, you’re unscrupulous. You ruin people’s lives; you’re a ruiner. You ruin everything.’
Dan took a long breath and then stood up. ‘I’ll be going then,’ he said.
‘Good,’ she replied.
He looked at his things neatly piled by the front door.
‘You’ve been busy,’ he said, leaning down to pick up Richie’s lead.
Tressa said nothing.
‘Richie, come on,’ he said but Richie sat by Tressa’s side.
‘Richie,’ he said again and but Richie put his head on his paws and looked away.
‘Can you blame him?’ said Tressa, looking smug. ‘He knows character and yours has been found wanting.
‘And you say your mother is judgemental,’ he said.
‘Leave my mother out of this.’
‘Your bloody mother is in everything you do, Tressa. You’re so busy wanting her love you let other love pass you by.’
Tressa said nothing but she crossed her arms.
‘Richie,’ he hollered, but Richie didn’t move.
‘Have you drugged him?’ he snapped at Tressa. His head was hurting now and so was his heart.
Tressa laughed unkindly. ‘No, but it’s obvious, he doesn’t like you any more than I do.’
Dan stood in the doorway, his head reeling.
‘You won’t be able to drive,’ she said. ‘So you’re going to have to sleep in your car. Shut the door after you leave.’
‘Tressa,’ he said, but she put up her hand.
‘Save it, Dan, just go. I’ll call Remi and tell him what you’re planning to do and see if I can’t protect him somehow.’
Dan shook his head. ‘Yes, you should call him and tell him about protecting himself from me – the worst person in the world. The evil journalist, the user and liar.’ He threw Richie’s lead onto the floor. ‘Keep him then, since he loves you so much.’ He picked up the bags Tressa had packed and opened the door.
As he did, Remi walked up the path. ‘Oh look, here comes the very man I betrayed – how wonderful, Tressa. You want to tell him I threw him under the bus to get ahead in my career?’
Remi stood looking at Tressa and then at Dan. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.
‘I am being kicked out because apparently I betrayed you by writing your story.’
Dan watched Tressa’s face as Remi gasped.
‘No, no. I asked him to write it. I want people to know how unfair it was and how corrupt, and how hard it is for me to have a life in England, knowing no one and how kind people have been to me here.’
Tressa was shaking her head, as though trying to understand. ‘What? Wait. Oh God, I didn’t know. Dan, I’m sorry. Really I am.’
‘You told me what you thought of me, Tressa. You’ve made yourself clear.’
‘I don’t… I mean I know I said that. But I didn’t realise.’ She tried to touch his arm but Dan pulled it away.
‘You didn’t ask me,’ he corrected her. ‘You assumed. You listened to other people’s opinions of me and then judged me. I have spent my life being judged, always found wanting, but it hurts being accused by you, when you told me to let my defences down.’
Tressa’s eyes filled with tears but he was too angry to console her.