Family Connections

by Family Connections (retail) (epub)

  ‘Mum—’

  Mary glared at her daughter. ‘I think I’m the only one talking sense in our house, because she’s wound her father round her little finger as usual.’

  Jake gestured them through. ‘The front door’s locked so come around the back way.’

  Lou gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Sorry to interrupt your gardening, Gramps. It’s all a storm in a teacup, really.’

  Mary marched ahead and once in the kitchen began without a word to pile up the dirty dishes on the draining board, turning on the hot-water tap.’

  ‘Leave that!’ Jake reached across her to turn it off. She was a right old bossy breeches, his Mary.

  ‘I can easily wash up while we talk,’ she protested.

  ‘I wash up once a day now, as you well know. There’s no need to do it more often with only me in the house. The less detergent people tip down the drains, the better for the environment. Now, do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ve just had one.’

  ‘Take your coats off? No? Come and tell me what this is all about, then.’ He shepherded them into the front room, which he only used in the evenings, and sat down in his favourite armchair, watching them undo their coats and Mary fuss over her handbag. ‘Well?’

  ‘She’s planning to go gallivanting round the world,’ Mary repeated, glaring at her daughter.

  ‘Lots of young people do that,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Wait till you hear what she’s intending to do in Australia…’ She paused dramatically then threw the words at him. ‘Find your father, if he’s still alive, and see if we have any long-lost relatives out there.’

  He stilled and stared at Lou. ‘Nay, then.’

  She gazed back at him defiantly. ‘Why shouldn’t I, Gramps?’

  ‘You know why not. You were told when you found those papers in my sideboard.’

  ‘Just because you and Auntie Peggy hate your father doesn’t mean the rest of us have to hate him and his family.’

  ‘I don’t hate him, exactly, just… don’t want anything to do with him.’

  ‘Anyway, we don’t know that he ever had any family in Australia,’ Mary snapped. ‘And even if he did, they might not want to know us.’

  ‘Then why are you getting your knickers in a twist at the mere thought of me going there, Mum?’

  ‘Because… because you always meddle. You’d no right to go nosy parkering in your grandad’s cupboard in the first place, and you’ve no right to interfere in this, either. Sometimes it’s best to leave things as they are.’

  ‘I was only looking at the photo albums that time, not nosy parkering, as I’ve told you a million times. And if I hadn’t found the papers, you’d never have told me about my great-grandfather in Australia, would you?’

  ‘You don’t need to know about him,’ Jake said mildly. ‘My father’s nothing to us now, made himself nothing when he abandoned us. Why, he never even tried to write to us. What sort of man does that, cuts off his own children because his wife won’t divorce him?’

  Lou looked at her grandfather reproachfully. ‘He’s still kin. And if he had any more children out there, they’d be close relatives of ours. Why, you might have half-brothers or sisters. Don’t family connections count for anything with you?’

  ‘Of course they do, but they didn’t count for much with my father, did they?’ He frowned at her. ‘I agree with your mother about this, Lou. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. I want your word that you’ll not try to contact them.’

  She looked at him for a moment then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry if this upsets you, Gramps, but I want to know about them. They’re my relatives too, you know.’

  He searched his mind for a sanction to apply that would stop her doing this… and could come up with nothing.

  ‘Well!’ Mary said in scandalized tones. ‘I never thought to hear you defy your granddad.’

  ‘I’m grown up now, Mum. Sometimes a person has to do what seems right.’

  ‘Who are you to decide what’s right about this?’

  ‘Someone who’s earning her own living, someone who has her own opinions and thoughts.’ Lou spoke quietly but firmly.

  ‘You’ll break your granddad’s heart.’

  ‘No, I won’t. If it didn’t break when grandma left him, it won’t break over me looking for our long-lost relatives.’

  There was dead silence in the room as she brought up this other forbidden topic.

  Jake stared at the rug as the image of his former wife rose before him. She’d been as bad as his father, chasing off and leaving her family, and he’d never forgiven her for that, didn’t even speak her name now.

  ‘You’ll do as you please, you always have done.’ He stood up. ‘So I’ll not waste my time arguing.’

  ‘I’m not doing it to hurt you,’ Lou said softly, coming over to give him her usual hug.

  He turned aside, didn’t want hugging, was too angry with her.

  Mary came across to pat his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t do anything with her these days. I don’t know what the world’s coming to.’ She turned to leave, then swung back again. ‘I nearly forgot. The settlement date’s been fixed and we’re moving next month.’

  ‘I’ll miss having you nearby.’

  ‘You’ll still have Lou – or you would if she wasn’t going off round the world. She’s refused point blank to come with us. Contrary, that’s what she is.’

  Lou sighed. ‘I keep telling you: my friends are all here and I like living near the sea.’

  ‘You always have to have the last word, don’t you?’

  Jake managed a smile, at least he hoped he did, as he waved them goodbye then went back to his digging. But he spent more time leaning on his spade than turning over the earth.

  He felt guilty now about refusing Lou’s hug, but he still thought she was betraying the family. It was the one thing they’d always been very solidly together about until now, his damned father. It still hurt that the man hadn’t written to him and Peggy when they were children. He should have kept in touch and shown that he still cared about them, even though he and their mother didn’t get on.

  It was no use getting in touch now. The time for that had passed.

  Jake hoped desperately that there were no Australian relatives for Lou to find. He didn’t think he could bear anyone raising those old ghosts again. They’d had a bad year or two after their father left, he and Peggy. Oh, not financially, he’d left them all right for money, but emotionally. His mother had gone to pieces and young as they were, it’d been up to him and Peggy to run the house and look after her.

  Pride had made them keep this to themselves, and they’d done the housework and shopping when they got home from school, sharing the chores, trying to jolly their mother out of her miseries.

  It had been a very bad time.

  Some things you could never forgive.

  CHAPTER 6

  Australia

  Of course Brad didn’t get away with things as easily as that. He’d known he wouldn’t. Michael invited himself round for a drink a few evenings later and tried very earnestly to persuade him not to sell the house until he returned from his trip.

  ‘Prices are rising fast, Dad. If you wait a few months you could get a lot more money, I’m sure.’

  Brad listened for a while then laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, not in the least moved by this careful persuasion. ‘I need to sell this house before I can move on. Nothing you say or do will make me change my mind.’

  ‘We’ll miss you, the kids especially.’

  ‘I’ll miss you all, too. But I have to meet Rosie and make sure she’s all right.’

  ‘I always thought you’d do some more writing when you retired.’

  ‘I had a couple of human resource training books published. I haven’t written anything for several years. And now that I’m retiring, I’m not exactly going to be staying up to date. So what would I write?’

  ‘You could try short stories or poetr
y. There’s a writers’ group that meets in our local library.’

  Brad closed his eyes and prayed for patience as he repeated slowly and emphatically, ‘I want to travel. After I’ve seen Rosie, I’m trotting off round Europe and maybe America. Now, you get this house on the market and find me a flat somewhere nice, or I’ll find someone else to do it.’

  Michael produced the papers for him to sign, but was still radiating disapproval when he left.

  Brad knew that would fade. Michael never stayed angry with anyone for long.

  As for him, he had another daughter to see in England. If nothing else came of her making this tentative contact with him, he had to make sure she was all right, for his own peace of mind. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to see her, love her, be her father properly. Michael and Joanna were off his hands now. This Rosie was younger than them, she would be at a more vulnerable time of life.

  What did her mother think about it all? Jane had been a strong, confident woman, which was what had attracted him at a stage where Helen seemed to be settling all too early into middle age and stodginess. He was surprised that she’d pretended her husband was Rosie’s father, though. Why would they need to do that? There wasn’t the stigma about children born or conceived outside marriage nowadays.

  And what was the man like who’d raised his daughter? What would he feel if the biological father turned up? That might be difficult for him

  Brad didn’t want to upset their family, but he had to meet Rosie, just had to.

  * * *

  Mel woke feeling so nauseous she could hardly make it to the bathroom in time to throw up. When she stared at herself in the mirror, she was shocked at how ill she looked. She saw Simon’s reflection behind hers and looked at him accusingly. ‘I can’t go through this again.’ She couldn’t stop her voice wobbling.

  He came to put his arms round her and she leaned against him – sagged, really.

  ‘Let’s get you back to bed, darling. I’ll bring up a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast. That used to help a bit last time.’

  She threw his arm off and stumbled across to the bed. ‘Nothing helped, as you well know. I was sick for the whole nine months – morning, noon and night. I can’t face it again, I just can’t!’

  ‘I’m not murdering our child. I’ll have a vasectomy after this one’s born and—’

  ‘No need! I’ll be having my tubes tied. I’m not relying on you any more.’ She burst into tears and turned away from him, burying her face in the pillow. When she heard him go out, she let herself cry for a while, then lay there feeling exhausted. Maybe she’d take today off work, give herself a good rest.

  When she heard footsteps coming back up the stairs, she scrubbed her eyes on a corner of the sheet and scowled at him as he set the tray down beside the bed.

  ‘Hot water with ginger and lemon in it. I read somewhere that it can help and—’

  But the nausea was rising again and she shoved him out of the way as she bolted for the bathroom.

  ‘Was it really this bad last time?’ He frowned at her as she stood up from where she’d been kneeling. ‘I don’t remember you looking so ill.’

  She leaned over the wash basin, rinsing her mouth out and splashing her face with cold water. ‘Yes. For the first three months. You may not remember, but I do. I had to carry a bucket with me everywhere because there were days when I couldn’t even make it to the bathroom in time to be sick. And I had to stop work. But I’m not doing that this time!’

  ‘I’m sorry. If I could do it for you—’

  ‘If men had babies, if they had to go through this, there would be fewer children born.’

  It was an old quarrel between them.

  ‘Sexist claptrap,’ he said absently as he put his arm round her and guided her back to the bed. He put a glass into her hand. ‘Try it anyway. Just have a sip or two.’

  She sighed and did as he asked. It wouldn’t help. Nausea was still roiling round inside her. But the warmth of the glass was comforting and she put both hands round it. ‘I’m not going to work today.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Just today. Giving myself a bit of a boost, so that I can cope.’

  ‘We shouldn’t have gone out last week.’

  ‘It was an important function. I was trying mind over matter… only it didn’t work. I don’t think anyone noticed when we slipped away, though.’

  ‘You should stop work completely, Mel. Or at least take sick leave. You are definitely sick. If we downsized, you could stop work completely and we could manage perfectly well on my salary.’

  She didn’t answer, just stared down at the glass of steaming liquid because the nausea was still heaving around in her stomach, pressing for release. When Simon stayed beside the bed staring down at her, she snapped, ‘Go away. I prefer to do my throwing up in private. If you want to help me, get Emma off to school and yourself to work.’

  But when he’d left the house she was sorry she’d snapped at him, wanted him back, wanted his arm round her shoulders. Most of all she wanted to be rid of this sickness. There were seven more months of this to endure.

  She buried her face in the pillow and began to weep – loud, ragged sobs and scalding tears.

  * * *

  Gina opened the door, took the business card the real estate agent offered and showed him round her father’s house. It was looking as well as it could without her redecorating or spending money. She’d got rid of the clutter and placed a couple of pot plants strategically to hide stains in the carpet.

  ‘I’m glad to see you haven’t done much to tart it up,’ he began, saw her frown and added hastily, ‘not that it isn’t clean and tidy. In fact, it’s well presented, for a house of this era.’

  She cut in ruthlessly because selling her childhood home was proving to be more painful than she’d expected and she wanted to get these interviews over with quickly. ‘Let’s get straight to the reason you’re here. How much is the house worth?’

  He named a figure that shocked her, it was so much more than she’d expected. ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘It’s a very good neighbourhood, close to the city. Gentrification has started – look at the improvements in the next street. This place will be snapped up by developers, who’ll probably knock it down and put three units on the block.’

  She’d guessed that. ‘I see. Is that a realistic price or are you exaggerating?’

  He cocked one eyebrow, studied her through narrowed eyes and reduced his price by ten thousand dollars. ‘I think that’s what you’ll actually get, but we’ll ask what I originally said to give us some leeway for bargaining. I sold one near here six months ago for considerably less. Real estate is booming in Western Australia, you know.’

  The next two agents told the same tale, give or take a few thousand dollars, though the female agent seemed more knowledgeable.

  That evening Gina was sitting wondering who would be the best person to sell the house when the phone rang.

  ‘Marla here. I came to value your father’s house today. Look, Mrs Porter, I’ve got an offer for it, quite a good one, too. Are you interested?’

  Gina gasped. ‘How much?’

  The figure named was ten thousand dollars over the highest estimate given her.

  ‘Why on earth is he offering more?’

  ‘Because he wants your answer within twenty-four hours,’ Marla said. ‘There’s no negotiation on that or the price. Quick decision or he looks elsewhere.’

  ‘I’ll – um – consult the other beneficiaries and get back to you in the morning.’

  ‘I’m here till ten o’clock tonight if you come to any decision.’

  Gina rang her daughters. ‘If someone wants to pay that much so quickly, we could probably get more for it,’ she cautioned them. ‘Though you can never tell.’

  Both her daughters recommended selling immediately.

  ‘It’s worth it to avoid any hassles,’ Lexie said.

  ‘I’ve not got the energy to d
o anything about it,’ Mel said. ‘But the money will be a big help, the way things are.’

  ‘Still feeling sick?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Yeah. Even worse than last time.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, love. Maybe you could stop work and—’

  ‘I’m not giving up work. We’d have to sell this house if I did that.’

  Gina bit back a sharp response. Mel was totally unreasonable about that home of hers. It sometimes seemed that she cared more for it than she did for her husband and child. But neither of her daughters was prone to listen to advice, so Gina had stopped offering it.

  She rang the agent and agreed to meet at eight o’clock the following morning to sign the contract, which would make the sale binding.

  It felt strange. It would leave a big gap in her life. For the past few months she’d done a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, first to help her father and then to clear up after him. Now, all of a sudden, it was over.

  I have the time and money to do something for myself now, she thought. And she hadn’t changed her mind about what she intended to do.

  That afternoon she went and had her hair re-styled and was delighted with her new look, though she refused to have it coloured. Why should she? She liked her own colour and a few grey hairs didn’t worry her.

  The day after she bought some new clothes, casual but smart, suitable for travelling.

  She was going to do it, she definitely was!

  * * *

  Gina phoned her daughters to arrange a meeting and tell them what she was planning. During their conversation, Mel had to rush away to be sick and Simon took over the phone.

  ‘She sounds really bad,’ Gina said, worried.

  ‘She is. But she’s still dragging herself into work and won’t listen to sense. You’ll be shocked when you see her. She’s lost so much weight. Try to talk a bit of sense into her, will you?’