by Fiona Lowe
You’ve been married to the same man for twenty years. Do you even have a type?
‘This property is now on the market,’ the auctioneer announced, accepting another bid from the assistant Harriet had dubbed Thing One. The bids climbed and then Thing Two shook her head and stepped back, leaving Thing One and Thing Three with clients bidding.
‘We have three-point-one million,’ the auctioneer’s voice boomed out and Thing Three stepped back, shaking her head. The auctioneer scanned the crowd. ‘I’ll accept thousand-dollar bids.’
The crowd stilled. There was no nodding, no raising of hands nor lifting of fingers. ‘In that case,’ the auctioneer continued, ‘I have three-point-one million dollars going once … going twice …’ He held a sheaf of rolled papers in his hand and suddenly brought them down on his opposite palm with a slapping sound. ‘Sold to phone bidder number one.’
A polite round of applause broke the crowd’s silence and then the twitter of chatter rose, buzzing around Harriet like wasps. She felt the muscles in her thighs quiver and then the movement quickly morphed into a fully fledged shake, racing up her torso and bringing with it a dull and persistent throb. ‘That’s that then,’ she said, trying to sound brisk and in control. The words came out wobbly.
‘Can you take any solace in a decent price?’ Andrew asked.
She thought of the stack of creditors’ notices locked away from prying eyes in the study’s filing cabinet. ‘It will give me some breathing space.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Good.’
She had an odd urge to invite him inside for coffee but she dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. ‘I best go and put on my real clothes and sign the papers.’ She stuck out her hand as if they were at an official meeting and it was coming to an end. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘No worries.’ He accepted and shook her hand, his grey eyes and his expression unreadable. Shoving his hands back in his coat pockets, he said, ‘See you in the trenches, Harriet Chirnwell,’ before turning and walking back down the drive to Miligili’s heritage listed gates. His chirpy whistling floated back to her before being drowned out by the noise of the crowd.
Surrounded by people, Harriet felt utterly alone.
CHAPTER
31
Georgie tweaked the bow on the gift she’d swathed in layers of tissue paper for Charlotte’s baby shower. It was the second weekend of October and she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that Charlotte was thirty-five weeks pregnant.
‘It looked perfect three tugs ago,’ Ben said from his prone position on Glenora’s guestroom’s bed.
‘Perhaps to your masculine eye.’ Georgie fingered the turn again, smoothing it out as she made three wishes. One for Charlotte. One for her great niece or nephew and one for herself.
She heard a book hit the floor followed by the sound of Ben’s feet and then his arms went around her waist. Pulling her against him, he rested his chin on her shoulder. ‘You’re fiddling. What’s up? Decided your embroidery is too good for this baby and you’re keeping the blanket for ours?’
‘We’re not even pregnant yet,’ she said, hugging the thought that they’d started trying close. Praying that she’d be able to conceive quickly given she was about to turn thirty-five and yet at the same time trying to keep her fears about pregnancy and babies at a very low ebb.
‘I reckon you should buy a body-hugging wedding dress that’s so tight it has to be virtually sprayed on. That almost guarantees you’ll be a pregnant bride.’ Ben’s arms tightened around her and he kissed her ear, his tongue outlining the shell. ‘We can start practising now if you like.’
A dart of delicious desire shot through her and she turned in his arms. ‘I guess as the Chirnwells’ social copybook is already blotted, being a pregnant bride is just helping along a whole new tradition.’
‘Georgie?’ Xara’s voice drifted down the hall. ‘Where are you? There’s work to be done.’
Ben gave a good-natured sigh. ‘I thought you said Harriet was the bossy one.’
‘She is. At least she was.’ She thought about how flat her eldest sister had sounded on the phone after the auction. ‘I’m worried about her. I want to check on her and we can do that under the guise of showing her the ring.’ She gazed yet again at her elegant and sparkling emerald-cut solitaire diamond.
‘That’s not something I really want to put my hand up for. But I’ll do it for you if you think it will help.’
She patted his cheek. ‘Harry’s coming around to you. She actually asked me how you were the last time we spoke, and she’ll be seriously impressed by this ring.’
‘A rising approval rating, eh? I should buy a scratchie.’ He sat on the bed and pulled on his socks. ‘Exactly when are you going to fit in this visit? The baby shower’s this afternoon and she’s not coming, right?’
Georgie understood his confusion. At the moment it almost took a map and a compass to work out who wasn’t talking to whom—and it wasn’t just her side of the family. Josie was still being difficult although unlike Harriet, she wavered between cutting herself off from Doug and opening the door to him. It was currently closed to Edwina.
‘No. She’s not coming.’ Although one part of Georgie knew Harriet was stubborn, she’d fully expected her to concede by now that Charlotte’s baby was real and it wasn’t going away. As Harriet and Xara weren’t talking, Georgie had been the one to urge Harriet to accept this fact. She’d called her the moment they’d got back from Lord Howe Island.
‘Ben and I are coming to Glenora on the weekend. I’m hoping we can catch up at Charlie’s baby shower.’
‘Did you leave your brain behind on the island?’ Harriet had asked waspishly.
Georgie, still on an engagement high, wouldn’t let anything dent her joy so she’d let the remark slide through to the keeper. ‘Harry, think of the baby shower as a bridge to heal the rift between you and Charlie. Cross it and bring a gift. She’ll be thrilled.’
‘Next you’ll be suggesting I bring gold or frankincense.’ Harriet had hung up.
Ben tied his shoelaces. ‘Right, well, we’ve got dinner with everyone after the shower and it can’t be a late night. We need to leave here at seven sharp in the morning to make it to Mildura for lunch with the sisters where we continue our ring tour.’ He looked up and grinned at her. He’d been doing a lot of that since she’d said, ‘I’d love to marry you.’
‘I’ll visit Harriet between the shower and dinner. You’re off the hook. Spend some one-on-one time with your dad. Ask him if Michelle’s committed to a date to meet us.’
‘Georgie! There you are,’ Xara said impatiently, appearing at the door. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There’s balloons to be—Oh, hi Ben,’ she said a little more congenially, ‘didn’t see you there.’
‘Hey, Xara. Can I help?’
‘Can a sheep bleat? I need you up a ladder hanging the baby bunting.’
‘Daddy’s gone a-hunting,’ Georgie murmured.
Ben kissed her and left the room humming.
‘Xar?’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re clutching a list, barking orders and sounding a lot like Harry.’
‘Oh, God, am I?’ A rueful smile crossed Xara’s face. ‘I just want Charlie to have a lovely afternoon but there’s so much to do before everyone arrives. Mum and Doug have taken her out for lunch. Steve’s keeping the kids occupied but I’m running out of time.’ She sighed. ‘We’ve always given Harry such a hard time but she’s the one who knows how to throw a kick-arse party. God, I miss her.’
‘You could call her.’
Xara shook her head. ‘I’m not being stubborn, Georgie. You know I’m usually the one to call but this time it’s not about some trivial matter. Only Harry can fix this. Only Harry can work out what’s more important to her: family or pride. I’ll be here if she decides to mend fences but I can’t enable her abandonment of Charlie. Or Mum, for that matter.’
‘Fair enough. I t
ried to convince her to come to the shower.’
‘I can imagine how that conversation went.’ Xara suddenly jerked. ‘Gah! The sausage rolls need to go into the oven. I’m such a novice at this. Why did I send Mum out when she’s as good as Harry with parties?’
‘Show us your list then,’ Georgie said, pushing Xara out the door. ‘We can do this. And when Harry comes round and we show her the photos, she’ll be proud that we colour coordinated the decorations. Although she might not forgive us the sausage rolls …’
* * *
‘Mardi,’ Charlotte wailed, her hand gripping the nitrous oxide mouthpiece. ‘It hurts.’
‘I know,’ Edwina said, stroking Charlotte’s sweat-drenched hair. It was a warm November afternoon and she’d brought Charlotte to the hospital five hours ago, direct from school. Apparently, she’d been in early labour throughout her chemistry exam although she’d thought her intermittent back pain was due to the uncomfortable school chair. It was only when she’d stood up to leave and her waters had broken that she’d made the connection.
‘But at least it’s pain with a purpose, darling. Deep breaths on the gas.’
‘I can’t do this,’ Charlotte sobbed.
‘Yes, you can.’ Despite the intervening years, memories of Edwina’s first labour rushed back and she was alone in a room and lying on a narrow bed. Only, it wasn’t the pain—that tight band of steel around her belly—that dominated her recall. It was fear and devastating loss. It was an experience she wouldn’t wish on any woman.
At least Charlotte wouldn’t have her baby snatched out of her arms and stolen from her life. Edwina didn’t regret her support of Charlotte, although she’d have preferred not to have lost Harriet in the process. Despite never having been close, she felt their estrangement keenly. It seemed her mothering experience was fraught with losing daughters—as babies and as adults. It hurt both ways. She thought about Michelle and although she took solace in her happy childhood and the woman she’d become, it didn’t temper the loss of having missed out on so much of Michelle’s life.
Slowly, very slowly, Michelle was warming to her and Doug. Since their initial meeting in July, they’d Skyped every couple of weeks. She’d mentioned visiting Victoria again but she still hadn’t told her adoptive parents that she’d met her biological parents. Edwina had spent nights lying awake bothered by this and on more than one occasion she’d woken Doug to talk to him about it.
‘I feel like Michelle’s put us in a secret cupboard and we’re only allowed out when she’s visiting.’
‘She’s trying to protect her parents,’ Doug had said sleepily.
‘Yes,’ she’d replied sharply, her voice rising, ‘but they know we exist. After all, they raised our child.’
‘And they did a great job.’
‘I’m not denying that but it’s not the point of this discussion. Michelle’s not protecting them by keeping us a secret. I’ve lived with secrets all my life, Doug. I know the damage, hurt and pain they inflict.’ Her chest had tightened and the familiar accompanying burn had taken hold. ‘Heavens, I’m a perfect example, and my family’s the collateral damage.’
‘Deep breaths, Eddy,’ he’d said gently as he rolled toward her. ‘Come here.’
She’d sighed, sinking into the warmth of his comforting embrace. ‘I just don’t want that sort of pain for Michelle. I don’t want her feeling guilty about getting to know us or lying to her parents by omission. I don’t want Marieke and Hans discovering she’s lied to them. No one should experience that awful gut-wrenching betrayal.’ Her voice had begun to shake. ‘And I don’t want to feel any shame about wanting a relationship with Michelle. I deserve that.’
Doug had been silent for a minute. ‘It’s a sticky situation. You can’t rush things.’
‘But the longer it goes on, the harder it’s going to be for all of us. That includes the van Leeuwens.’ The fight had suddenly gone out of her, drained away by the complicated reality of the situation. ‘I know I can never be the mother who raised her. I’m not in competition with Marieke but I want to come out of hiding and be known as Michelle’s biological mother. I want to find a way to be a part of her life that sits comfortably with all of us.’
‘Mardi?’ Charlotte rocked forward on the beanbag as the contraction ended. ‘Has Mum texted?’
It was the same question Charlotte had asked a dozen times since arriving at the hospital. While Carolyn, the midwife, had admitted her granddaughter, the first person Edwina had called was Xara. Her middle daughter had arrived at the hospital within the hour and they were taking it in turns to sit with Charlotte. The second call she’d made had been to Harriet. It had gone straight to voicemail so she’d left a message and immediately followed up with a text. She’d also rung the hospital’s general reception to find out exactly where Harriet was working today. An efficient receptionist told her, ‘Ms Chirnwell’s in theatre all afternoon. Would you like to leave a message?’
The operating theatre suite was one floor below them in an adjacent building. Edwina had been tempted to walk down there but the memory of the last time she’d approached Harriet at work cautioned her. She’d left a message with the receptionist asking Harriet to call the labour ward. Hours had passed since that conversation.
‘I can go and ask the midwives if she’s called and then check my phone. But that means I have to go outside.’
‘Okay.’
‘Xara will be back any minute but I’ll ask Carolyn to stay with you.’ Edwina gave Charlotte’s shoulder a squeeze, picked up her handbag, and walked toward the door. When she was halfway across the room, Charlotte let out a long, low moan—the visceral sound made by all labouring mammals.
‘Mardi. No.’ She reached out her hand. ‘I need to use the bathroom. Right now!’
Edwina rang the bell for the midwife. ‘I think perhaps that’s the pressure of the baby’s head.’
Charlotte’s eyes widened into large, blue pools, their depths a mixture of exhaustion, fear and excitement. ‘I—’ But she didn’t finish the sentence. Her words got swept away by the all-encompassing guttural moan and heave of her body pushing the baby down the birth canal.
Carolyn pushed open the door and smiled. ‘That sounds promising, Charlie.’
Xara hurried in after her. ‘Did I miss anything?’
* * *
An hour later, an exhausted but elated Charlotte sat propped up on a bank of pillows, gazing down at her baby. She’d counted ten toes and ten fingers and now the baby’s fingers tightly gripped her own index finger. ‘He’s perfect.’
Edwina blinked away tears as she stroked his damp little head. ‘He is. He’s absolutely perfect.’
Charlotte gave a small laugh. ‘I never thought about having a boy. I mean, you had girls and Mum had me …’
‘The twins will be beside themselves having a boy cousin—’ Xara paused in thought. ‘Or is he a second cousin? Either way, he’s going to have big boys to teach him disgusting things like digging for worms and fun things like catching yabbies.’
‘Mardi, would you like to hold him?’
‘I’d love to.’ Edwina received the swaddled bundle and was just pressing a kiss to his forehead when Doug stuck his head around the door. ‘May I come in?’
Charlotte nodded and he walked in holding a huge vase of blue and white hydrangeas and deep blue irises, along with a blue balloon and a teddy bear.
‘Congratulations, Charlie-girl. What a champ!’ He dropped a kiss on her head.
‘Thank you. They’re beautiful flowers.’ Charlotte rested back against the pillows.
‘Enjoy all the treats, while you can, Charlie,’ Xara said pragmatically. ‘Dirty nappies and baby sick take over soon enough.’
‘And this is the little bloke.’ Doug pulled up a chair next to Edwina, sliding his hand into hers and squeezing.
Their eyes met and as impossible as it was, she knew they were both trying to share a moment that had been denied to them all those years ago. ‘He’s
got the Mannering mouth,’ she said briskly, trying to squash her overwhelming desire to weep.
‘Does he have a name yet, Charlie girl?’
Charlotte seemed to sit up higher in the bed. ‘I know the Mannering tradition is that girls are always named after their great-grandmother and boys after their great-grandfather but because you’ve both been so good to me I’m tweaking the tradition. His name is Edwin Douglas Richard Chirnwell. Teddy for short.’
‘Good call, Charlie,’ Xara said, giving her a hug.
‘Oh.’ Edwina’s tongue thickened and the backs of her ears burned hot. She blinked and blinked again but it barely stalled the inevitable. She gave up the fight, allowed her hard-fought composure to slip and let her tears fall.
‘Have I upset you?’ Charlotte asked anxiously.
Edwina shook her head, sniffing loudly as Xara bent down and scooped up little Teddy. ‘No, it’s just …’ But emotion tightened her throat and caged her words until she couldn’t speak at all.
‘Your great-grandma’s christening you with her tears,’ Xara said to the baby.
Edwina tried to draw in a deep breath and stem the flow of tears but her body had other ideas. Her shoulders shook, her hands trembled, mucus clogged her nose and as she gasped for air, her sobs became a hulking, savage noise.
Doug produced an ironed hankie from his pocket and thrust it into her hands. ‘You okay?’ he asked, his face creased in worry.
‘Mum?’ Xara’s consternation and anxiety radiated off the word. ‘These are happy tears, right?’
‘Mardi, I’m sorry,’ Charlotte said, her voice wavering. She sounded close to tears herself.
