For some reason, this last piece of information, and the image of the despairing Shep, was what stayed with Lucy most, plaguing her for days after the phone call. Shep even began to appear in her dreams; to make matters worse, he had a habit of transforming into Ted, sad and alone, his long body stretched out in the shadows beneath Lotte’s cottage, or trapped inside a tall dark cage made of twisted fig roots.
During the day, however, Lucy had little time to think about Charlotte’s Creek and its inhabitants. Overseeing her mother’s rehabilitation was all-consuming. Marie’s stay in rehabilitation lasted five months, and during that time her brain rapidly rewired. It was a day of great jubilation when she finally walked carefully out through the sliding doors of the hospital.
But Marie’s reaction to returning home surprised her family. They’d believed she would be happy to be back in her own environment, but instead she became sullen and discontented, all at once aware of her shortcomings. She refused to see visitors, suddenly conscious of her tendency to make mistakes when speaking, and she became furious at herself over her poor short-term memory and her inability to concentrate. This was an unexpected turn of events for Lucy, who until now had been so gratified with Marie’s fast recovery. It broke her heart to see such a decisive, strong-minded little woman reduced to this hesitant, insecure creature. It felt wrong when her mother deferred decisions to Lucy, so she gradually began to push Marie to be more self-reliant.
Eventually she was rewarded for her efforts. One day, watching Lucy ironing, Marie hobbled over to the ironing board and pushed her aside. ‘You’re doing a dreadful job on that shirt,’ she scolded in the bossy tone of old. ‘Let me finish it.’
‘Mum, you’re getting better!’ Lucy exclaimed.
Then, all at once, Marie became well enough to be left on her own at home. Lucy succumbed at last to Cheryl Bolton’s repeated entreaties to return to Greenoaks for the odd day of teaching. The warm welcome she received from the children, and even from many of the parents, was some consolation for her overwhelming feeling that in returning she was taking a most definite step backwards in her life path. When Cheryl began to hint at the possibility of a more permanent arrangement, Lucy felt that she was in grave danger of being sucked back into the whirlpool from which she’d made her escape when heading north.
On her way home from school one clear, chilly day, Lucy dropped into the pharmacy to collect Marie’s latest cocktail of medication. Next to the counter she noticed a stand of tacky-looking postcards. Impulsively, she chose one showing the Sydney Harbour Bridge against an unnaturally fluorescent sunset, then sat down outside the post office and scrawled a few lines to Ted. Remembering the gossipy mail lady in Ingham, she bought an envelope and addressed it to ‘Mr Golder, Charlotte’s Creek, via Ingham’. She enclosed the postcard and posted it immediately, so as to prevent any possibility of reconsideration.
On her way home, feeling a little bewildered, Lucy tried to remember what she’d written. It was already hazy in her mind: something about her mother, enquiries about Pagan, Shep and Snoz, and something more—about feeling like a visitor in her own city, no longer at home here, and wishing she had the right to call herself a country girl.
Chapter 38
Lucy opened the front door and peered out through the locked screen into the dim evening. A lanky, felt-hatted silhouette, burdened with a load, stood on the doorstep.
‘G’day, mate. Just wondering if you’d have a corner for a fella to roll out his swag?’
‘Ted!’ Lucy wrestled with the screen door; then, without thinking, she rushed at him and threw her arms around his waist. He was standing slightly off centre to balance his heavy swag, and the onslaught made him stagger backwards a step or two.
‘Oi, settle down, mate. No need to flatten me.’ With a small chuckle, he added, ‘Worse than bloody Snoz.’
Lucy came to her senses and released him quickly. ‘Oh, sorry! I just wasn’t expecting . . . It’s such a surprise . . . How on earth did you find your way here?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t had a bloke help me,’ Ted remarked. ‘Real pretty boy, he was. Prettier than most girls I know. Less hair on him, too.’
‘Oh, Ted!’ Unable to contain her joy, Lucy laughed in delight at the dear familiarity of his speech.
‘Been an education already, this trip,’ Ted continued. ‘These blokes here, all dolled up with pretty hair and tight clothes. Smell like flowers too. They walk past you—and woof! You get hit with a whiff of their scent.’
‘That’s the fashion here!’ Lucy protested.
‘Hey, I’m not one to judge,’ Ted said. ‘That fella that helped me, he was the prettiest of the lot. Talked real sissy-like too. But he really went out of his way to point me in the right direction. He was sitting near me on the train to Central from the airport. Only bloke in the whole damn carriage not fiddling with an electric gadget.’ Ted gave a low whistle. ‘I can see that mobile phones and computers have bred up into something much worse.’
Lucy laughed again and nodded. She’d never heard Ted make such a long speech unprompted.
He shook his head. ‘That pretty bloke was reading a book so I figured I’d ask him. Showed him your address on the back of this.’ He held up Lucy’s now crumpled envelope.
Lucy took Ted’s arm and drew him inside while he continued his story. The screen door squeaked shut behind them.
‘When we got out of that train, he took me to the right spot for the next one. Just as well, because there was a whole swag of those platforms. Told me how many stops to count, and to find a taxi when I got off and show the driver this letter too. So that’s what I did.’
Lucy was still smiling disbelievingly as Ted put his swag down near the umbrella stand. Marie’s concerned enquiry floated down the hall. ‘Lucy, who was at the door at this hour?’
Lucy grinned reassuringly at Ted. ‘C’mon, let’s see if Mum remembers you.’
Ted stayed for five days. To Marie’s horror, he insisted on sleeping in his swag on the floor of the spare room each night, and wearing his grubby work Akubra everywhere they went by day. Lucy joyfully refused any teaching jobs for the week, and set about organising a tour of Sydney’s highlights.
Some days Marie came along, and Graham joined them for a few outings. Lucy could see that, contrary to his expectations, Ted was enjoying himself immensely, as new experiences presented themselves at every turn.
Ted’s appearance attracted some curious glances, and he had a tendency to make eye contact with and acknowledge all his observers. Lucy was amazed at how people warmed to him, and she saw a new, friendlier side to the faceless crowds of the city streets. Even more surprising was how well her mother and Ted seemed to get along. Ted clearly liked Marie’s directness and only chuckled at her blunt criticisms. But best of all, Lucy observed a quiet regard developing between her father and the ringer. Also, to her astonishment, Gemma and Lloyd, who had been away in Canberra, decided to return to Sydney several days early on hearing the news that Ted was in town. They arrived back towards the end of Ted’s stay, and Gemma rang Lucy and insisted that she bring Ted over to their Potts Point home for a small soiree. She said Lloyd would ask another couple as well—some of his racehorse friends.
Lucy was touched by their hospitality, but Ted was highly alarmed at the prospect of ‘dinner with toffs’; he asked Lucy if there was any way of getting out of it and seemed downcast when she said it would be rude to refuse. When the evening arrived, Lucy reminded Ted about the dinner, then went to get herself ready. She deliberated over her appearance much longer than usual; after trying on several outfits of her own, she went to Gemma’s old room and looked in the cupboard, finally settling on a shot silk dusky pink cocktail dress. By the time she’d finished putting on some of Gemma’s obsolete make-up, it was nearly time to leave. Suddenly realising she hadn’t heard the shower running, she rushed to the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Ted, still in his old jeans and shirt, sitting at the table with Graham, f
rowning distastefully at the Sydney Morning Herald.
‘Ted!’ Lucy cried. ‘We have to leave in about five minutes if we’re going to be on time. The traffic will be terrible!’
‘Oh Lord!’ lamented Marie, dropping her book and squinting at the clock. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy! Oh, my sluggish brain, I should have been onto him for you!’
But Ted only shrugged in his seat. ‘You go along to your dinner. I’ll have a night in with your parents. Those posh folks wouldn’t want me there, I’m sure of that.’
‘It’s in your honour!’ Lucy exclaimed in exasperation. ‘Lloyd and Gem want to meet you!’
Ted sat up straight. ‘Holy hell, now you’ve put the wind up me.’
‘So go and have a shower! I’ve ironed one of Dad’s shirts for you.’
‘No, thanks,’ Ted said, unfolding himself from his seat. ‘I’ll be uncomfortable enough as it is without having to wear some fancy bloody shirt.’ He glanced apologetically at Graham. ‘Sorry, Mr Francis.’
‘That’s all right, Ted.’ Graham smiled. ‘I quite agree. If you’re expected to be Exhibit A for this gathering then you should go in your natural state, and be at ease.’
Marie got slowly to her feet. ‘Ted, I’ll get the shirt of yours that I bleached today and iron it while you get clean and have a shave.’ She spoke kindly but Lucy smiled to see a flash of the old fire in her eyes.
‘Here’s a deal, Mrs Francis.’ Ted matched her keen gaze. ‘I’ll wear the clean shirt, even let you iron it, but no shave. I need some protection. I’m not having a bare pink face for all the world to see.’
‘We should be leaving right about now!’ Lucy scolded.
‘You might miss the first course or two, Ted,’ Graham said, a twinkle in his eye.
Ted stalked sulkily towards the bathroom.
‘I’ll bring you some clean jeans!’ Lucy called after him. ‘Ted! Don’t put those same ones back on again!’ The sound of the shower starting was her only reply.
Ted looked fearfully at Lucy as they entered the architecturally designed apartment. The animated buzz of conversation coming from a large room at the far end alerted them to the size of the gathering.
‘Bloody hell!’ Ted said quietly. ‘That’s a party going on in there.’
‘They’ll be lovely,’ Lucy said, but she suddenly felt panicky herself on Ted’s behalf. ‘No turning back now.’
‘Lovely, you reckon,’ Ted muttered as he followed Lucy through the spacious, spotless rooms. The walls were white, the floors tiled in shiny black. Contemporary artworks and sculptures adorned the walls and surfaces, positioned oddly or artistically, depending on the opinion of the observer. All the furniture was black and silver.
Lloyd saw them first. ‘Lucy! You insolent girl,’ he called, putting down his tall champagne flute and striding across the room. ‘How could you keep us waiting? You’ve missed the tapas and champagne!’ There was a sudden lull in the conversation as everyone turned to look at them.
Lucy made a hurried introduction. ‘Lloyd, this is my friend Ted Golder. Ted, Lloyd.’
‘The bushman from the north himself.’ Lloyd shook Ted’s hand enthusiastically. ‘Now that’s a handshake!’ He grinned around the room and hung his hand limply, as though it had been crushed.
Gemma floated across the room and hugged Lucy before standing back to regard Ted with her head cocked. ‘Mmm.’ She nodded appreciatively, while Ted looked back curiously at Gemma.
Lucy, who’d been momentarily distracted by the sight of Cameron Irvine leaning on the bar at the other end of the room, suddenly switched into gear. ‘Oh, sorry. Ted—my little sister, Gemma.’
‘Little?’ Ted laughed softly. ‘She’s got a good foot on you.’ Lucy could see that even the usually impervious ringer was quite overawed by Gemma’s beauty.
Gemma laughed. ‘Yes, and I’m prettier, too. Which is lucky because I don’t have anything else going for me. Lucy’s far superior in every other way, as I’m sure you’ve probably realised by now. Why else would you have followed her all the way to Sydney?’
Lucy blushed miserably, but Ted, his expression quizzical, gave a quick nod of agreement and continued to look Gemma in the eye.
‘Come on, all.’ Lloyd was shepherding the party towards a long, immaculately set table. ‘Now that the guest of honour is here, let’s be seated.’
Gemma took Ted by the arm and Lucy went to follow, but Cameron stepped into her path and kissed her on the cheek. Then, his hands on her shoulders, he held her at arm’s length and examined her face.
‘You’re looking well, Lucy. Different, somehow. Better,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I’m glad you’re back. I’m only just back myself, last week. I guess you knew I was doing a stint in London?’
‘Yes, I had heard.’ Lucy smiled back. ‘That must’ve been interesting.’
‘And now we’re both home again from our little adventures.’ Cameron said. Then with an amused smile he added, ‘It looks as though a hanger-on has followed you south.’ Taking her arm, he led Lucy to the table, pulling out a chair for her and then sitting beside her. Lucy looked helplessly over at Ted, who was already seated at the far end of the table. As well as Cameron, there were three wealthy-looking older couples, a younger couple, and a heavily made-up young woman about Lucy’s own age in a short bright red dress. She was glancing at Ted every few minutes and seemed to want to catch his eye. Lloyd sat himself next to Ted and proceeded to introduce all the other guests.
Two of the couples, the Wittmans and the Marleys, were fellow thoroughbred-racing enthusiasts, while the Collards were golfing acquaintances. The younger couple, the Bradleys, had a neighbouring mooring to Lloyd’s yacht. The young woman in the red dress was Lloyd’s daughter Felicity, which was why she looked familiar, Lucy realised. She’d been at Gemma’s wedding, in an equally red dress of a slightly different style, to see her father marry a woman younger than herself. Ted gave each person a direct look and a curt nod as Lloyd introduced them. By then the entree had been served by the caterers.
Lloyd noticed that Ted was looking uncertainly at the oysters. ‘Not a seafood buff?’
‘Are they still alive?’ Ted asked.
‘Might as well be!’ Lloyd declared. ‘Only the freshest bay-farmed variety here, my friend. Never tantalised your taste buds with oysters?’
Ted shook his head.
‘It’s high time you did,’ Lloyd went on. ‘Exceptionally good aphrodisiac too. Aren’t they, my love?’ He turned and stroked his wife’s cheek.’
The company laughed obligingly.
‘Well, I’ve never tasted oysters, or aphrodisiacs,’ Ted said. ‘Not ones like this, anyway.’
‘What kind have you tasted?’ Nadine Bradley pointed at Ted with her small silver fork. ‘Do fill us in.’
‘Only your old bush oyster,’ Ted told her. ‘Not half bad, either.’
‘Are they like freshwater mussels?’ Glen Bradley had put down his cutlery interestedly.
‘No, mate.’ Ted looked sideways at him. ‘Nuts. You know, stones? How can I say it nicely, Lucy?’
Lucy thought for a moment before she said, ‘Well, when they castrate the bull calves they’re left with the . . .’
‘You can’t be serious?’ Nadine’s eyes lit up with horrified delight. ‘You eat the testicles?’
‘We cook them first,’ Ted said defensively. ‘On top of the branding furnace. Not like these buggers.’ He poked an oyster suspiciously with the point of his finger.
‘Bush oysters!’ Felicity Irvine was gazing at Ted with a mixture of disgust and fascination. ‘That is utterly revolting. Oh, how the other half live!’
‘They’re bloody good,’ Ted retorted. ‘You wanna take a better look at these bits of black slime you’re eating.’
‘Try one,’ Lloyd suggested. ‘You just might change your views.’
‘Righto then. I’ll try anything once.’
They all stopped eating in anticipation. Ted looked at the numerous pieces of cutlery ar
ound his plate. Undaunted, he selected the biggest fork.
‘That’s for the main meal,’ Gemma said softly. ‘Go outside in.’
‘How many knives and forks does a bloke need? This big set’ll do me.’
Ted had spoken quietly, the comment intended only for Gemma, but Marcus Marley overheard and waggled his finger at the ringer. ‘Now, Ted, when in Rome, do as the Romans do!’
Lucy found herself blushing at Marcus’s patronising tone, furious over the way these arrogant people were deriving enjoyment from Ted’s lack of sophistication. She watched Marcus and Glen exchange an amused smile, looked at their pasty, immaculately shaven faces and their soft, comfortable bodies, and then looked back at Ted. Even through his shirt she could see the wiry strength of his shoulders. His chiselled jaw under the sandy stubble, was angular and keen. As a man, she found him so far superior to these others that were daring to look down on him. She heartily wished she’d never exposed him to this. But Ted had also clearly seen the amused exchanges between the people around him, and meeting Lucy’s eye, he winked. With amazement she realised that he was quite unconcerned, their good opinion clearly of little value to him.
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