Daughter of Mine

by Fiona Lowe

  Xara slumped against the bench, her hand over her racing heart. ‘That kid’s going to kill me.’

  Steve laughed and returned the ice to the freezer. ‘Doug’s a hit with the kids. I guess that’s one hurdle jumped.’

  Xara gloved her hand with an oven mitt and checked the roasting vegetables. ‘He’s a good bloke.’

  ‘He is. So why not say it like you mean it?’

  ‘I do mean it.’ She sighed as she closed the oven door. ‘It’s just … Don’t you find it odd seeing Mum all starry-eyed like that?’

  He laughed. ‘Yeah. It takes a bit of getting used to but good on her.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘What?’ He raised his brows as he passed over her champagne flute. ‘Aren’t you happy she’s happy?’

  ‘Of course I’m happy she’s happy.’ She took a sip, savouring the fizz of bubbles on her tongue and the unexpected zip of lemongrass.

  ‘But?’ Steve pressed.

  She wrinkled her nose. This man she loved knew her too well and he wasn’t going to let her get away with anything. ‘I’m sad because seeing her like this means she’s obviously been unhappy for years. It means that her life with Dad was …’ She’d been about to say miserable but she had no idea if miserable was the right word. Truth be told, like most children, she’d never given much thought to her parents’ marriage.

  ‘God. What if all those periods of her being sad weren’t a legacy from her postnatal depression after Georgie? What if she was miserable all her married life? And if she was, well … that’s just awful. And Dad? Poor Dad. Did he know Mum had loved Doug? And if she loved him, why did she marry Dad? I’ve got all these questions and they won’t stop going around in my head.’

  ‘Complicated things, relationships. Once you start thinking about other people’s it makes you think about your own,’ Steve mused as a thoughtful look crossed his face. He kissed her. ‘Are you happy?’

  She leaned her forehead against his. ‘A few weeks ago I would have told you I wanted a disposable income like Harry’s. Considering everything that’s gone down this week, I’m thinking you, me, the kids and the sheep, we’re not doing too badly.’

  ‘You didn’t answer the question.’ He pulled back and looked at her, his usually calm green eyes swirling with indecipherable emotions. ‘Are you happy?’

  She could see he really wanted to know but it was a complicated question and the answer was tricky. She didn’t want to just brush him off with Sure, of course. ‘What’s happy? It changes on an hourly basis. I’m sad Tashie’s not able to enjoy the taste of Easter chocolate today. I’m happy the boys are high on the stuff and that Doug’s teaching them tricks. I’m furious that because of James we’re back to raising money again for the respite-care house. I miss not working as a lawyer but I love spearheading the special-needs advocacy group. Mostly I love my jobs on the farm and farm life although I could live without the unpredictability of the weather.’

  She cupped his cheek. ‘Happy, sad, miserable, jealous, excited or tired, one thing doesn’t change, Steven Paxton. I never want my life without you in it.’

  Something close to relief skittered across his face. ‘Guess it’s settled then. You have to die first.’

  She gave him a gentle shove as the wireless meat thermometer commenced beeping. ‘The lamb’s ready. Bring it inside and turn off the barbecue.’

  ‘Slave driver.’ Not moving, he grinned at her and then leaned down and kissed her as if they were in the first few weeks of a new relationship instead of one and a half decades down the track.

  They heard a woman clearing her throat and raised their heads to find Edwina standing on the other side of the bench.

  ‘Are you sure you two don’t need any help?’

  ‘We’ve got the roast covered, Edwina,’ Steve said, patting Xara on the behind as he strode past toward the door.

  Xara’s cheeks burned and she was both embarrassed to have been caught in a clinch by her mother and cross with herself for feeling that way. ‘Dessert’s your domain, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware of that and I’ve got—’

  ‘Oh, good. I’m not late.’

  They both swung around to find Harriet crossing the sunroom and holding a bottle of wine. As usual she was exquisitely dressed, but there was a brittle quality to her that made Xara feel both guilty and grateful that her own life wasn’t quite as much in the toilet as her sister’s.

  ‘Harry! You’re here. That’s great.’

  Her older sister’s chin shot up slightly. Given the last time she’d spoken to their mother had been brutal, she was probably steeling herself. ‘I am here.’ She extended her arm. ‘Edwina, I brought you some wine.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Edwina accepted the proffered bottle with a smile that combined hesitancy and relief. She glanced briefly at the label before setting it down on the bench.

  Xara noticed it was red wine and her heart sank. Not only did their mother not drink red wine, this particular bottle was one of their father’s favourites. Nothing about the gift was a peace offering; it was all about firing another salvo at Edwina.

  Oh, Harry. Today’s not the day to bring Dad along.

  ‘Doug’s quite partial to a bold cab sav,’ Edwina said smoothly. ‘We’ll offer it at lunch.’

  Thwarted, Harriet glared at her mother but said nothing. It was checkmate. It was a well-known fact that once the gift had been given, the giver lost all rights to it. Edwina had just turned the tables on her ungracious daughter. Xara sighed. Everyone thought Harriet was more like their father but she shared enough of the less endearing qualities of their mother to clash with her. When pushed, Edwina could win Olympic gold in the viciously polite event.

  ‘Has James been here?’ Harriet asked, ignoring the atmosphere that vibrated between her and her mother.

  ‘He called in earlier.’ Edwina inclined her head toward a rectangular gift on the sideboard. ‘He didn’t cross the threshold and all of us stood with Charlie for the full five minutes he was here.’

  ‘Not me,’ Steve said, returning with the leg of lamb and plunging the carving fork deep into the meat. ‘The only time I want to be in the same space as that prick is in court.’

  Xara threw him a shut-up-now look.

  Edwina continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. ‘Charlie didn’t tell him her news. I think she’s waiting for things to improve between the two of you before she says anything.’

  Thank Mum for protecting Charlie, Xara willed Harriet.

  Harriet’s lips thinned. ‘If she goes ahead with this pregnancy she’s going to be waiting a very long time.’

  So much for ESP, Xara reflected ruefully.

  Harriet readjusted the gold chain of her handbag on her shoulder. ‘Well, Edwina, I suppose you’d better introduce me to this Doug friend of yours before we sit down for lunch.’

  ‘He’s out in the garden. The twins have put him into service as their entertainment. He’s coping admirably.’

  As her mother and sister walked outside, Steve tilted his head toward the plate-warming drawer. ‘I thought the last time Harry was here she told Edwina she wished she were dead.’

  Xara set the hot plates on the island bench. ‘She did.’

  ‘Given that went down, they sound pretty cordial now.’

  ‘Oh, Steve.’ She flicked him with a tea towel. ‘You poor deluded man. It always sounds civil between Harriet and Mum but it never is.’

  CHAPTER

  18

  Sitting under the arbour, which now shimmered with vibrant vermillion and vivid orange courtesy of the grapevine’s autumnal leaves, Edwina scanned the long dining table. At noon it had been pristine, covered by a white cloth and decorated with evenly spaced vases of flowers. A chocolate Easter bunny, wrapped in gold foil and with a red ribbon and tiny gold bell around its neck, had sat by each place setting. Now, with the meal complete, everyone was sitting back full of food and the table was littered with both scrunched balls and smooth rectangles of
coloured foil. The remains of a large pavlova weighted with strawberries and cream was in the middle of the table and the silver server was buried deep in its fluffy meringue. She smiled as Doug helped himself to a second slice.

  Over the last two weeks—first with Doug and then with her house unexpectedly full of daughters—she’d been reminded of the joy she experienced cooking for others. She hadn’t done a lot of cooking since Richard’s death because it was hard to muster the enthusiasm to cook for one. Their marriage had been far from perfect and certainly faults lay on both sides, but food had been one area they’d got right. She’d always cooked for Richard with consideration and he’d always appreciated the meals she’d prepared. Now, watching Doug eat, she felt an inordinate amount of pleasure warming her. She’d lost him for so many years and yet here he was at her table and meeting her family.

  Her mouth suddenly dried at the thought of the task they were yet to undertake. She took a large sip of water as Friday’s conversation rushed her as it had done for the last two days. When it happened, it consumed her: the memory as real as the original conversation and the emotions as intense. She didn’t fight it. She allowed herself to be pulled back to the lake, smelling the scent of pine and hearing the sound of Doug’s life-changing question.

  * * *

  ‘What do you mean you couldn’t get to a letterbox?’

  Her heart jumped and she kept her eyes fixed on the pelican to stop herself from falling apart. Who’d have thought that after all the intervening decades, telling him would be so difficult?

  ‘Do you remember on our last night in the EJ I told you I was going up to Melbourne to visit a friend from school?’

  ‘I remember the trip but not the name of the friend.’

  ‘It was Patricia Templeton, but visiting her wasn’t the real reason for the visit. I’d made an appointment to see a doctor to have some tests.’ She finally turned her head to look at him. ‘The rabbit died, Doug. He confirmed my suspicions that I was pregnant.’

  ‘Jesus, Eddy.’ He stared at her, dark eyes wide with shock and his mouth slack. ‘You never even hinted.’

  She gave a slow, regretful shrug. ‘I wanted to be absolutely certain before I said anything to you. The moment I got the news I cut short my trip and spent the train journey to Billawarre working out how I was going to tell you. Planning the exact words I was going to say. When I got home, you were gone.’

  She scooped up a handful of pine needles, watching them fall from her palm. ‘I reassured myself you’d taken some time off and you’d be back on Sunday, the day I’d told you I’d be home. When you didn’t arrive I went and spoke to the other hands. That’s when they told me you’d gone to Puckapunyal.’

  Her spine stiffened as though the news was fresh and she was once again living those long and apprehensive days. ‘I won’t lie and tell you I wasn’t furious at you for leaving without telling me. I was so angry I could barely see straight but it never crossed my mind that you wouldn’t write to me. Or call. Or visit.

  ‘While I waited for you to contact me, I distracted myself by planning everything in my innocent and inexperienced head. I reasoned that although my parents wouldn’t be thrilled at the news, the fact you had a reliable army income meant they’d give their begrudging permission. We’d get married at the end of your basic training.’

  ‘I’d have been onboard with that,’ he offered up earnestly. The look in his eyes begged her to believe him.

  ‘I thought so too, only that naive plan went up in flames three weeks later when my mother found me vomiting behind the hydrangeas. That was when, as they say in the classics, the shit well and truly hit the fan.’ She gave him a faint smile.

  ‘Flaming hell, Eddy.’ He touched her then, picking up her hand and encasing it in his beefier one.

  She tilted her chin, trying to stay strong and stave off the battering ram of tumultuous emotions. Emotions she knew all too well held the power to render her inert for hours, days, weeks at a time. ‘Apparently, an unmarried pregnant daughter was far more scandalous and damaging to my father’s political career than his hushed-up affair with the wife of one of his colleagues. Or my mother’s predilection for gin.

  ‘He badgered me to name you. I refused, believing we’d have more power if we told him together. I said everything would be fine and the father of the baby would marry me. That was the only time in my life he ever struck me. Today I learned why. After your visit to the house, he’d guessed it was you.’

  ‘Bastard.’ Anger stormed Doug’s face. ‘I thought he was a decent bloke. He talked such a good line but it was all show, wasn’t it? The truth was, you marrying a farm hand with mixed blood and aspirations was worse than you being unmarried and pregnant.’

  She squeezed his hand, both sad and relieved that he understood. ‘His worst nightmare was someone finding out I was pregnant and the news being leaked. Fraser Mannering did everything in his power to keep his scandals well hidden. He decreed I must go away. Melbourne and Sydney were considered out of the question, because someone we knew might see me. I was sent to a mother and baby home in Hobart. My father told everyone I’d gone to finishing school before taking a grand tour of Europe with my aunt.’

  ‘They isolated you?’ His voice cracked as the significance sank in. All veterans knew the tenets of torture. ‘Those mongrels!’

  Years of despair bubbled up in her voice. ‘I tried so hard to contact you. I felt sure if you got word I was pregnant you’d move heaven and earth to get back to me. For months I refused to sign the adoption papers they shoved under my nose every single day. I tried to block out the bullying and the mind games but they were good. Expert. They specialised in sowing seeds of uncertainty.’

  The matron’s sugar-sweet voice leapt into her mind, the phrases as loud and clear as if the words had just been spoken. If he loves you so much he’d be here with you now, wouldn’t he? Men are evil creatures. They take advantage of innocent girls. You’re a very lucky girl to have a family who loves you so much. Look at all the effort they’re going to so that that after this little holiday you can start again.

  She choked on the word holiday and a violent urge to gag gripped her. ‘When the good-cop routine didn’t make me sign, they brought in the doctor. He was a stern-looking man much the same age as my father. He always made me sit down and then he stood in front of me in his white coat and authoritative glasses. He told me my behaviour was unconscionable. That I was an unlovable slut who couldn’t be trusted to keep my legs shut. Said I was useless. That I didn’t deserve to be a mother. If I tried to keep the baby I’d fail and have to give it up anyway. He’d look down over the top of his glasses and finish with the kicker: why ruin the child’s life as well as my own?’

  Doug rocked slowly back and forth. ‘Christ. I should have been there.’

  Her eyes prickled with bulging tears. She blinked hard, needing to stall them. Knowing that once they started, they wouldn’t stop and there was still so much more she needed to say. ‘It was an awful labour. So long. I think I fought every single contraction. I wanted to hold onto our baby forever. It was the only way I could keep her safe.’

  She gave an involuntary shudder. ‘In the end they pulled her out of me with forceps. I was screaming for her but they wouldn’t let me see her, let alone hold her. A kind nurse told me the sex and that she was alive before they whisked her out of the room and away from my outstretched arms. Later, when I was in the ward with a blood transfusion plunged into my arm and so weak from lack of blood I could hardly see straight let alone think, they came at me again with the papers. This time they held a black fountain pen.’

  She made an odd huffing sound. ‘I’ve never been able to use one since. I asked to see my baby. Begged. They told me yes and my heart soared. Then they hit me with the conditions. I could only see her if I signed the papers first. I knew it was blackmail but what choice did I have? I was eighteen with no income. I had nowhere to live and no support at all. My family had abandoned me on an island,
cut me off from everyone I knew and all I had were a few dollars in my State Savings Bank account. I didn’t even have enough money to get back to Victoria.’

  Her throat thickened, the words clogging and snagging. ‘All I wanted was to hold my baby. Oh Doug …’ She turned her wet face to him. ‘She was beautiful. She lay in my arms as serene as an angel, gazing up at me from bright and inquisitive eyes. I stared at her so hard I didn’t want to blink in case I missed a precious second of her. Her little hands had dimples in them and her fingers closed around mine with a grip so strong it bruised my heart. The rush of love came so fast I thought I’d explode with the joy of it.’ A tear splashed onto her hand. ‘Ten minutes later, she was gone. I never saw her again. No one ever spoke about her again.’

  She dug her nails into her palms. Almost there. ‘My parents arrived two days later as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened and took me back to Murrumbeet. I was given a new wardrobe worthy of any young woman who’d been to London and Europe and they bought me a car. Their plan had worked. No one suspected I hadn’t been overseas but just in case, they didn’t let the grass grow under their feet. They quickly paraded me in front of suitable and eligible men who’d made their approved list.

  ‘I was grief-stricken and incapable of fighting them. Richard had the medical talent and I had the pedigree to help him build a very successful surgical practice in Billawarre. I’d lost you and I’d lost our baby. I didn’t really care what happened to me but Richard was a decent man, so when he proposed, I said yes.

  ‘I thought things would get easier but they didn’t. I’ve never forgotten our baby, Doug. When I lost her, I lost part of me.’

  Doug made a strangled sound deep in his throat. His arms closed clumsily around her, pulling her close and holding her so tight it hurt. His cheek rested against hers and their tears mingled: salty, warm and harrowingly sad.

  After their tears trickled to a stop they mopped their cheeks and blew their noses, Doug using a clean and ironed handkerchief and she some decorative travel tissues she always carried in her handbag. Doug kept saying over and over in a voice full of utter bewilderment, ‘We have a daughter. A daughter.’ As though saying it out loud and hearing it again and again was helping him absorb the astonishing news.