Close to Home

by Janet Gover

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. And I have to thank you as well.’

  ‘Me? What for?’

  ‘For inviting us. It meant a lot to—’ He hesitated. He never talked about the accident. He never talked about how he had watched Lucienne fade and age with grief. He never talked about his own guilt that had made him walk away from the big top and vow never to return, even if his leg healed. ‘It meant a lot to my grandmother. She’s been struggling a bit.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  She didn’t ask why. He appreciated that. ‘Yesterday she looked almost like her old self.’

  ‘She is wonderful. The kids all loved her.’

  Simon didn’t answer, afraid his voice would give too much away.

  ‘Shall we?’ Meg jumped up and down a few times on the spot as an additional warm-up and then turned towards their track.

  For a while they just ran, not quite side by side, but close enough. They didn’t talk. The only sound was their deep breathing and the slap of their trainers on the hard dirt. The last person he had ever trained with was Michelle. They had run together and spotted for each other while lifting weights. They had pushed each other to bigger and better things. They had swung together on that bar high above the circus ring. They had flown like angels together and then they had fallen—together.

  He picked up his pace a little. Running helped keep the memories at bay.

  They ran in silence for one complete lap of the oval. Simon was sweating and it suddenly occurred to him that it was December. It was really too hot to wear track pants while he was running, but shorts would expose his scars to the world and he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that yet. Glancing sideways at Meg, he wondered how she would react if she saw the huge scar on his leg. Would she flinch away from the ugliness? He wouldn’t blame her, but he didn’t know if he could stand to see her do that. The track pants may have to stay a little longer. Meg was dressed much as he was, with track pants and a long-sleeved running top. He wondered if she was feeling the heat too. Maybe her choices were made for reasons not dissimilar to his, which would explain the fear he still saw far too often in her eyes.

  At the end of the circuit, by unspoken agreement, they both slowed their pace.

  ‘You’re running easier now,’ Meg remarked. ‘You’re not limping.’

  Simon almost lost his stride but quickly recovered. He hadn’t realised she’d noticed the limp, although, when he thought about it, how could she not? It was pretty pronounced. Or had been. But she was right. He was running easier. It was almost time he went for another check-up. He was almost certain he’d get a thumbs up from the surgeon who had rebuilt his leg. In these few short weeks, his limp had definitely faded. How strange that Meg should notice before he did.

  ‘Injuries heal,’ he said between deep breaths as they ran. ‘At least they are supposed to.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  He liked that she didn’t ask about the injury and how he’d come by it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it just yet.

  ‘I’m going to do an extra lap this morning,’ Meg said. ‘Coming?’

  Much as he would have liked to, he shook his head. ‘I’ve got a delivery coming. I have to get back.’

  Just as she was about to break away, he stopped.

  ‘Meg, I’m working on the old carousel this weekend. I’ll take my grandmother to church Sunday morning, but if you wanted to come by after that, we could work on it together. Only if you have nothing else to do …’ He suddenly felt as nervous as Finn had looked the previous day, performing in front of the schoolgirl he had a crush on.

  ‘I’d like that.’ She paused, jogging on the spot. ‘I’ll see you then.’ She turned and ran away from him with that long, steady stride that looked so easy.

  Simon found he was smiling. He turned and studied the school gate for a moment. Ignoring all the things his brain was telling him could go wrong, he took a few quick steps, placed one hand on the gatepost and vaulted it, clearing it easily. He landed safely on the hard dirt. Not even the smallest twinge of pain had occurred to suggest he wasn’t ready for this. The smile stayed on his face for his entire run home.

  That afternoon, Meg dismissed the class as always and walked back to her little cottage. It was starting to feel like home now. Her books sat on the shelves. A few favourite ornaments decorated the living space, and the bathroom now smelled faintly of the hibiscus soap she loved. As always she locked the door behind her. As she did, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  It was three days since they’d last spoken, and then, as now, the conversation carefully avoided any hint of her mental state, the past or the future. It was a safe conversation. Meg loved her mother, but she hated these conversations almost as much as she’d hated the conversations that had filled the days immediately after she’d left hospital. Those had been all about her mental health and her injuries. Her parents had tried to help her, but they were fighting their own struggles after almost losing their only daughter. Leaving Sydney had been as much about escaping their almost suffocating concern as it had about this job.

  After ten minutes, her mother hung up, promising to ring again in a few days.

  Meg didn’t immediately settle to read her students’ homework. She felt unusually restless. She made herself tea, but didn’t drink it. At last, she gave up all pretence of work and decided to go for a walk. There was still plenty of daylight left. She would go to the shop and buy a few essentials. She might even treat herself to something from the bakery, if it was still open.

  She set out in the direction of the main street, her steps light. When she walked into the grocery store, she saw Karen from the bakery sharing a joke with the store owner, Nicola. Meg hung back, pretending to look at some magazines. She didn’t want to intrude. But Karen and Nicola had other ideas.

  ‘Meg. Hi. How are you?’ Karen said.

  ‘I’m fine thank you, Karen.’

  ‘We were just saying how wonderful it was of you to organise that circus trip to the school. It’s all my kids have talked about,’ Nicola said.

  Meg hadn’t taken much joy in her work since the attack. But today … today was a good day.

  ‘Do you knit?’ Karen’s question came from nowhere.

  ‘Sorry?’

  The baker indicated the magazine Meg had pulled from the rack. The girl on the cover was wearing a knitted jumper and Meg realised it was a book of knitting patterns. She hadn’t been paying attention when she picked it up.

  ‘Oh. No. I didn’t realise this was a knitting magazine.’

  ‘You should, you know,’ Karen offered. ‘It’s very relaxing.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

  ‘That’s where we come in.’ Karen grinned at her. ‘We have a small knitting group. Just four of us. You could join and we’ll teach you.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t—’

  ‘It’s Wednesday evenings, but we don’t go too late, so it shouldn’t be a problem for school. Do come. It’s really just an excuse for a cuppa and cake and some gossip. We’ve even been known to break out the occasional bottle of prosecco.’

  Meg hesitated.

  ‘The other two have kids at the school as well, you might know them. And …’ Karen leaned forward to whisper in a conspiratorial tone, ‘… Aunt Alice doesn’t come.’

  The three of them laughed and Meg suddenly realised how much she’d missed this sort of friendship. ‘But I don’t know how to knit. And I don’t have needles or wool or anything—’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you sorted out. Right then, Wednesday at six o’clock. It’s my place this week. You know where it is, don’t you?’

  Meg nodded. She was starting to think a night in with some new friends might be fun.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Alice thought the churchyard seemed more crowded than usual. All the familiar fac
es from the town were there, of course, even her niece Jenny. She was looking very pretty this morning. Her hair was freshly washed and she was wearing a pretty summer frock, not those terrible jeans she seemed so fond of. To Alice’s mind, the dress was a bit short but that was the way the young ones dressed. Was Jenny wearing a touch of makeup? Alice frowned, then decided to let it go. After all, the girl was nearly sixteen. In these modern days, it was to be expected that she would wear makeup from time to time, although Alice wasn’t entirely sure Sunday morning service was the right time for it. She nodded to a few of her relatives, the ones currently in her good books, but frowned as she realised there were several small groups of townspeople talking to strangers. Some of the unknown men had tattoos. If that wasn’t bad enough, at least one of the women did too. Circus people.

  A car pulled up. Alice recognised the man who got out from behind the wheel. She’d heard all about the school visit from various excited great-nieces and nephews. Apparently the woman had been wearing sequins and feathers. Unseemly for someone her age. You’d never catch Alice wearing feathers.

  ‘Shall we go in now?’ She prodded the nephew who was escorting her today. There was no way she was going to allow that woman to take her pew. When she got to her place, she made certain there were enough relatives to fill the pew. Feathers or no feathers, that woman was going to have to sit elsewhere.

  Alice didn’t enjoy the service as much as she usually did. For a start, Father Phil wasn’t there. He was on retreat, according to his replacement, who lacked Father Phil’s humour and good looks. This man’s sermon was almost enough to put a person to sleep. At the end of it, she stood to make her way down the aisle, and found herself face to face with Lucienne Chevalier. The woman looked, well, different. She looked happier. Almost younger. Her dress was a bit much for church; it was black, which was good, but that huge sparkling brooch was just not right. It was clear the woman had been a beauty in her youth. Far more beautiful than Alice had ever been. This Madam had been the talk of the town for the past few days, and Alice had heard every word of it. She had dismissed the rumours about a royal love affair. What royal would be connected to a travelling circus?

  ‘Good morning, madame.’ The woman’s French accent was particularly pronounced this morning.

  Alice inclined her head in greeting. She had been brought up properly. ‘Good morning. I do hope you enjoyed the service.’

  Lucienne looked around, then leaned forward and whispered, ‘The priest. He is not as handsome as the other. And the sermon. It was not so drôle, n’est-ce pas?’

  Alice drew herself up to her full height. ‘The sermon is not for entertainment! It is for instruction. Good day.’ She gathered herself in, as if to avoid touching the other woman in the narrow aisle, and swept out of the church.

  In the churchyard circus people and townspeople mingled and chatted with apparent ease. A young couple caught Alice’s eye. Jenny with a boy about her own age. There was something about the way her niece held her head and smiled at him. And the way he was standing so close he might easily touch her. They were a picture of youth—no, more than that. They were a picture of young love. First love. The love that hurt so much when it was torn away by a cruel world. Alice closed her eyes but couldn’t avoid the image of two other young lovers standing outside this very church. It had been so long ago, yet she felt the pain again, as if it was yesterday.

  ‘Jenny! Jenny Harden!’

  Jenny came, and she brought the boy with her. ‘Aunt Alice, this is Finn. He’s with the circus. Finn, this is my great-aunt Alice Dwyer. We all just call her Aunt Alice.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Aunt Alice.’ The way he bowed his head would have been gallant and courteous, had it come from anybody else.

  ‘I’m not your aunt, young man. You may call me Mrs Dwyer.’ She ignored Jenny’s muffled gasp of protest. ‘Jenny, walk home with me. I need to discuss something with you.’

  ‘But you don’t walk on Sundays—’

  ‘Come along.’

  Ignoring the shocked looks on nearby faces, Alice set off. It was true that she never walked home from church but Alice was in no mood for lunch, or the prating of the nephew who was driving her today. As expected, Jenny obediently fell into step beside her. But the girl wasn’t going to ignore what had just happened, which suited Alice. She had a few things to say to her favourite niece. For her own good, of course.

  ‘What’s the matter, Aunt Alice? Has something upset you?’

  Alice was grateful for the genuine concern she heard in Jenny’s voice, but she kept walking in silence until they were well out of the hearing of anyone at the church. She took a deep breath. ‘Have you been seeing that circus boy?’

  ‘What do you mean, seeing him? He came to school as part of the performance.’

  ‘Don’t play cute with me, Jenny Harden. Have you taken him down to that place by the creek with the fallen trees?’

  ‘How did you know about that?’

  ‘How long do you think those trees have been there? You’re not the first one to sit on them. Teenagers have been going down to the creek to be together since I was young.’

  ‘Did you ever—’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent!’

  They walked a few more steps in silence, and then Alice relented. Jenny reminded her too much of her own younger self.

  ‘Of course. Every generation does.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘What do you mean, wow? I wasn’t always old. I had my share of suitors.’

  Jenny chuckled.

  ‘I’m not one to tell you what to do …’ Even as she spoke, Alice knew Jenny was thinking exactly the opposite: that Aunt Alice was always telling everyone what to do. She might not be entirely wrong, but Alice had lived a long time. She’d seen a lot of people make mistakes in their lives. She’d made mistakes herself. She was only trying to protect her family. To protect Jenny. ‘Don’t get too attached to that boy.’

  ‘Aunt Alice!’

  ‘I mean it, Jenny. One day he’ll move on. Him and all his circus friends. And he’ll find another girl in the next town. And another in the town after that. He’ll just break your heart.’

  Jenny didn’t answer.

  ‘I know you think he’s different, but he’s not. They’re all the same. You can’t trust him.’

  ‘How can you say that? You don’t even know him.’

  ‘I know his type. This town will be better off without them. I can’t wait to see the back of them. Good riddance, I say.’

  ‘Why are you saying this, Aunt Alice? What has Finn ever done to you? You’re not my mother. If I want to see him, I will.’ Jenny turned and ran in the direction of the creek.

  Alice watched her go. Maybe she’d been a bit too blunt. She thought about that as she walked the rest of the distance to her house. Maybe she was being overprotective.

  She let herself in through her front door, the door that she had taken to locking since the circus people had arrived. She paused just inside to say hello to the rapidly growing bundle of black and white fur that now went by the name of Duchess. The kitten followed her into the living room. Instead of taking her usual place in her armchair, Alice opened the drawer in the sideboard and took out the photo. She looked at the face smiling up at her and felt that same ache in her heart. He hadn’t been a circus boy, not when this photo was taken. But all that had changed when the circus came to town. Maybe she was being a bit too hard on the circus folk. As far as she knew, none of them had actually done anything wrong—yet. She would be the first to know if they did. But lessons learned the hard way are never forgotten.

  Alice picked up the bundle of old letters in the drawer. All except one were in the same handwriting, and addressed to her. She almost opened them to read them again, but then shook her head. What was the point? She knew the contents of those missives by heart, and it was too late now to change the course of her life.

  She wasn’t wrong in warning Jenny off that boy. She would spare Jenny the
heartache that she had known.

  She put the letters and photo back and firmly shut the drawer.

  The circus compound looked very busy. Meg assumed there weren’t many days of rest in a travelling circus. She parked her car near the shed that housed the carousel.

  Simon emerged from the house carrying what looked a lot like a picnic basket. ‘Hi.’

  His smile made her feel both welcome and safe. ‘Hi.’ She turned to retrieve a tote bag from the car. ‘I brought this. I ordered it from the state school library. I have to send it back eventually, but I thought you might find it interesting.’

  Simon put the picnic basket on the ground and took the bag. He pulled out a large hardback book with a glossy cover that featured an image of a vintage carousel. He glanced at her, his face a picture of delight, then opened it to flick through the pages of beautiful colour images. ‘This is great.’

  ‘There are some wonderful stories in there, about circuses and the people who travelled with them. I was up late reading it.’

  ‘I’m sure Grand-mère will enjoy it too. She probably knows some of the people in here. Thank you, from both of us.’ Simon tucked the book carefully under his arm. ‘I am ashamed to say all I have to offer you in return is tea and some of Grand-mère’s pastries as we work.’

  ‘That sounds wonderful.’

  They entered the shed. Since Meg’s previous visit, the parts of the carousel had been laid out in some sort of order. She walked down the line of sculptured animals both real and mythical, and the equally engaging vintage transport devices. There was a horseless carriage and a ship for the little ones, and a tiger and sea monster for the larger, braver riders. All were showing signs of great age. In places the timber was bare and weathered. In others, cracks were showing. But that only added to their appeal. Verne’s Nautilus sat next to a rocket ship, while horses and elephants shared their special dances. Meg felt as if she had been swept into a world of magic, a place where children were safe and the future was always shining.

  The painted awnings were equally faded with age and the wiring for the light sockets was in dire need of replacing. Engine parts had been carefully laid out on a sheet of old canvas that only seemed to highlight the rust.