‘Which in itself is a reflection of my life,’ she muttered, wondering why the thought made her angry when once it would have pleased her.
She booted the machine to action and sat down in front of it, telling herself it was a far better companion than Connor, and more fulfilling than any number of children under five.
Shuddering slightly, she opened the program she wanted and was soon absorbed in her work, spreading names and dates across the screen, manipulating them to see what fitted where. By two o’clock she had generations of the Russell family neatly represented, back as far as great-great-grandparents. She saved the work onto a floppy disk then, remembering her earlier fear, pulled the laptop out from under the bed and transferred the information to its hard disk as well.
It wasn’t much, but she was damned if she was going to lose it, she thought as she fell into bed.
Or leave town!
Sleep brought oblivion—no dreams, no recurrence of the nightmares—nothing but blankness until she woke to the aggravating whine of a ride-on mower beyond her window.
It was ten o’clock so she could hardly yell abuse at its operator. In fact, if it wasn’t for the noise, she’d have enjoyed the smell of fresh-mown grass.
Ten o’clock? She was seeing Judy Laurence at ten-thirty! Ten minutes to shower and dress, another ten for a much-needed cup of coffee and some sustenance. Which would give her ten minutes to walk to Judy’s place. Surely she’d passed Short Street on her way uptown yesterday. There was a map in the file Melissa had left—she’d check it while she ate her cereal. She’d decided, whenever possible, to walk to her appointments, not drive, knowing a sports car could give people a false first impression which she’d then have to battle to overcome.
The map showed she had passed Short Street the previous day and that it was close enough to walk. She made it to Judy’s front door with a couple of minutes to spare and was greeted with brisk friendliness by an elegant woman with raven-dark hair swept into a neat French roll.
‘Come on in. The kettle’s boiling. Will you have tea or coffee?’
She ushered Caitlin into an open, sun-filled family room and waved her towards a cane chair upholstered in shades of aqua, teal and rust. Glass doors overlooked a pool, the colour of the water exactly matching the aqua tone in the cushions. The outside area included a gas barbecue and outdoor table and chairs, the whole made private by the fronds of squat palms.
‘What a lovely setting!’ Caitlin exclaimed, inwardly startled by her reaction as she rarely took much stock of her surroundings.
Judy seemed pleased, blushing slightly as she returned with a tray bearing a coffee-pot, cups and saucers, and a sinful-looking chocolate mudcake.
‘It’s really far too ‘‘decorated’’ for Turalla, but I’ve always loved messing about with colour and design, and up here…’ The words trailed off into a soft sigh.
‘Not much call for interior decorators, huh?’ Caitlin asked sympathetically, and Judy laughed.
‘None at all,’ she said. ‘I should have had more kids—or that’s what my husband tells me. He’s an educated and enlightened member of the male species, or was until we moved up here. Lately he’s reverted to an Iron John and seems to think having babies should provide all the fulfilment any woman needs.’
‘Since you’ve been up here?’ Caitlin echoed. ‘I had the idea you were a local.’
Judy smiled.
‘Granny Russell, I suppose! There’s no escaping, is there? I was a local, but I left town at sixteen. I couldn’t wait to escape to the city.’
‘Snap!’
‘You, too? A small country town?’
Caitlin nodded.
‘Yep, but I stayed on in the city. What’s your story?’
Her hostess didn’t answer immediately, busying herself pouring coffee, cutting cake, offering a small plate and napkin to Caitlin. It wasn’t until she sat back in her chair, her coffee-cup cradled in her hands, that she finally spoke.
‘I met a man,’ she said softly. ‘An engineer with big ideas and even bigger shoulders. He’s gorgeous, my Martin, I still think that. I fell in love and knew I’d follow him to the ends of the earth.’
‘Or back to Turalla?’ Caitlin said softly, feeling the love Judy felt for her man hanging in the room like a lingering perfume.
‘Always knew it was the end of the earth!’ Judy replied, nodding and smiling at the same time. ‘Actually, a return to Turalla was the last thing I expected. I’d thought more of the Middle East, or South America, even New Guinea.’
Her smile broadened. ‘Not that I didn’t have a taste of those as well. Annabel was born in Rio, and we had two years in the United Arab Emirates.’
‘Then back to Turalla?’ Caitlin asked. ‘It’s starting to sound like a song title.’
‘Four years ago. We’d only been here a month and, knowing we’d be settled for a while, were even considering having another child. Then Annabel fell ill and…’
‘How far into remission is she now?’ Caitlin asked, although she knew the answer.
As Judy began to explain, she knew she’d guessed correctly. Parents usually welcomed the opportunity to talk about their child’s cancer, yet didn’t want to force it on others, so tended to keep it bottled up inside them.
‘For so long it was all we thought about,’ Judy finished. ‘Another baby just wasn’t an option.’
‘And now?’ Caitlin prompted.
‘Definitely not! I couldn’t go through that again. We were lucky with Annabel as it was caught early and she went into a clean remission after only one treatment, but if it happened again…’ She paused, then seemed to gather herself together. ‘Even before Anthea Cummings told me you were coming, we’d read where there was a bigger likelihood of siblings contracting the disease. No, Annabel is it for us. We just thank heaven daily that we’ve still got her.’
Caitlin shivered although her lips were smiling, registering an appropriate reaction to the happiness in Judy’s voice. She must be getting fanciful, she decided. First love as an entity in the room, and now a coldness, as if the ghost of Jonah Neil had touched her soul.
‘More cake?’
‘No, thanks, I know my limits.’ She looked at Judy, wondering if she was ready for questions, and caught the other woman smiling at her.
‘Ask away,’ she encouraged. ‘I’m only too pleased to help.’
But someone isn’t, Caitlin remembered as she opened up the folder and found the list of questions.
Contrary to Melissa’s suggestion, Judy seemed keen to talk about her family’s place in the town’s history, regaling Caitlin with tales of the wild times on the goldfields, stories passed down through generations of Snapes in the same manner as the original inhabitants of the land kept their history alive.
‘Now, can we try to get some order into this?’ Caitlin asked, still giggling over Judy’s tale of Great-aunt Mildred’s bloomers. ‘You said Mildred was a Russell—do you know her father’s first name?’
She teased out the threads, drawing lines of direct ancestry downwards, noting sideways relationships and diversions on the right, jotting down phone numbers as Judy gave her the names of people who might be able to confirm a possibility or add a pertinent fact.
‘Will that help at all?’ Judy asked, when Caitlin explained she had to go.
‘Enormously,’ Caitlin assured her. ‘In fact, I’d love to go right home and put it all into the computer, but I’ve an appointment with Anne Jackson in half an hour so I’d better stick to research today and play with the figures tonight.’
‘Anne Jackson handled Harry’s illness extremely well,’ Judy said, apropos of nothing.
Caitlin looked at her and saw concern in her eyes.
‘And now?’
Judy shrugged.
‘I really don’t know. We were all so close at one stage. Harry was in remission when Annabel was diagnosed and Anne was wonderful, explaining to me what we’d have to go through. Now? She seems to shun the rest of
us, as if the sharing brought her into too close an intimacy with us.’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘She’s a nurse at the hospital so you’ll have medicine in common. Perhaps she’ll talk more freely to you.’
Or perhaps she doesn’t want me here, Caitlin thought, remembering the silent message.
‘I noticed on Harry’s file there’s no mention of a Mr. Jackson. Did he die? Or is she divorced?’
Judy looked uncomfortable.
‘Anne’s never married. Her story is she wanted children, not a husband. She grew up here then went away to do her training and nurse for a while, but no one knows about the children’s father—not even if it was the same man,’ she explained. ‘That’s not gossip. I’m telling you because you asked. And because it might make it easier for you when you’re talking to her.’
Caitlin smiled.
‘Help me from making some unforgivable faux pas, you mean?’
‘Something like that,’ Judy agreed, an answering smile lighting her face. ‘Let’s keep in touch,’ she suggested impulsively. ‘We don’t have to talk about your work, but it would be nice to see you again—socially. Perhaps lunch?’
‘I’d love that,’ Caitlin replied, only realising how much she meant it after she’d said goodbye and was walking away. Was it the natural friendliness of a country town getting to her, or was it Connor’s jibe about the emptiness of her life?
Anne Jackson lived a block closer to the hospital, in a weatherboard house that seemed to lean into the shadows of the huge mango tree behind it. A jumble of toys decorated the veranda, but the house, when Anne invited her in, was spotless. Not as expensively furnished as Judy’s but with a friendly, country-cottage air about it that made Caitlin feel at home.
‘Check the chair before you sit down,’ Anne warned. ‘The kids are supposed to leave their toys on the veranda but that rule works better in theory than in practice. Have you had lunch? I could make you a sandwich.’
She spoke briskly, almost brusquely. Talking to conceal something? No, she seemed welcoming enough.
‘I’ve been gorging on Judy Laurence’s mudcake,’ Caitlin admitted. ‘So no to a sandwich but I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. I keep promising myself I’ll do something about this caffeine addiction—but not just yet.’
Anne smiled and her slightly stern face relaxed.
‘Me, too,’ she agreed. ‘I fell into the trap of drinking it on night duty when I first began nursing and these days it’s a four-cup habit to get through the shift.’
‘You work night duty at the hospital?’ Caitlin asked, hoping her question sounded like natural interest, not hysteria.
‘Permanently,’ Anne explained. ‘Start at eleven. It suits me because I can be with the kids in the afternoon, put them into bed, then be back to have breakfast with them and take them to school. Weekends are a bit hectic if I’m on duty as no matter how hard they try, they really haven’t a clue about keeping quiet while I sleep.’
‘Kids? How many do you have?’
‘Come into the kitchen while I make the coffee,’ Anne said, standing up again and leading the way towards the back of the house. ‘If we start talking now you’ll never get your fix.’ She filled an electric kettle then reached for a coffee plunger. ‘To answer your question, just the two. I thought you’d have known that from Harry’s file.’
Had she walked away deliberately? Caitlin wondered, watching the woman busy herself with the small domestic chore. Had there been another child? Judy’s warning echoed in her mind and she resolved to tread warily.
‘I probably read it—more than once, in fact—but until I’ve met everyone it’s difficult to keep the names straight in my mind. I know Harry’s nine. How old is his sibling? Girl or boy?’
‘Rachel’s five. She wasn’t born when Harry was first diagnosed with cancer. Though now she knows he was ill. I don’t know whether the extra attention he had to have will affect her later.’
There was no self-pity in the woman’s voice but Caitlin sensed her toughness was a façade to hide a lot of pain.
‘Did she go down to the city with you when Harry went for follow-up?’ she asked, taking advantage of this opening to explore a little further.
‘Of course. Where else should she have been?’
It was an abrupt response, almost abrasive, yet the words seemed more defensive than belligerent, shutting off any chance of further conversation on the subject.
‘And you? Are you from this area? I think I explained on the phone about looking for genetic links between the children.’
Anne gave a bark of unmirthful laughter.
‘You did, but the story had already spread. Seems everyone in town knew what you were up to before you’d unpacked your bags. And that you’d had dinner with Connor. That started a nice line in gossip, that did.’
Caitlin studied her, wondering if the woman fancied Connor. Could jealousy be behind Anne’s attitude? Not that she wasn’t welcome to the man. In fact, they’d suit each other—both blew hot and cold.
‘Would you prefer not to talk about your family background?’ she asked, not wanting to antagonise someone who might have slid a nasty illustration under her mat.
Anne turned slowly, her body tense and her eyes watchful.
Fear brushed along Caitlin’s spine, irrational but real.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, but I have to know it’s confidential. Who’s going to see this work of yours? Who’s going to know in the end what the family connections are?’
‘Myself,’ Caitlin told her. ‘No one else will ever know as there’s no need for it. I’ll be using code names—or possibly colours—to represent the different strands of heredity. If common ancestry and genetic heritage is confirmed—and that’s a big if—then we’ll do some DNA testing. After that, who knows?’
She could feel Anne’s interest but knew some internal battle was going on within her.
‘You’ll want the children’s father’s line included?’ she asked, and Caitlin felt as if a huge hole had opened beneath her feet. What had Connor said about ripples spreading out across a lake? Who knew what they would touch?
‘Not if you’re not prepared to tell me,’ she said. ‘I can work off one line, as I’ll be doing with children like Annabel whose father isn’t a local.’
The silence told her this wasn’t the case with Anne’s children. Whoever had fathered them was right here in Turalla—or had come from here originally. So why the mystery? And how come no one knew? Towns like this prided themselves on knowing every detail of each other’s lives—especially who was going where with whom. Yet Anne Jackson must have pulled off a conjuring trick not once but twice.
‘Where did you do your training?’ she asked, as a possible solution occurred to her.
‘Down in the city,’ Anne replied, relaxing slightly and gesturing towards a chair as if they’d both been standing long enough. ‘At the Royal, in fact. At least when I had to go down with Harry I had that comfort—I knew my way around the place and had friends still working there.’
Which led naturally into a discussion on Harry’s treatment and the doctors’ hope that this remission might be permanent. Caitlin noticed she didn’t use the word ‘cured’.
‘And your family? Have you relatives in town?’ she asked, and Anne laughed.
‘More than you can poke a stick at,’ she said. ‘Like the Russells, we’re related to just about everyone and while that’s a curse when you’re growing up, I couldn’t have coped without my immediate family. Mum’s been wonderful and one or other of my relatives sleep over so I can go to work. These days it’s my youngest sister. She’s sixteen and still at high school. When she goes off to university, I’ll have a niece old enough to take over from her.’
She sighed, then added, ‘Yes, I couldn’t manage without family, no matter how irritating they are at times!’
‘Organising your life? Making suggestions—but always for your own good?’ Caitlin asked, smiling her understanding of the
problem.
‘Exactly!’
Anne smiled back, a natural, friendly smile—and Caitlin saw how attractive she was when the woman allowed herself to relax. Was the children’s father still around? Was that why she’d stayed single?
‘And speaking of families, aren’t there questions you want to ask?’
Anne’s words jerked her back to work-related matters. The woman’s love life was none of her business.
‘Plenty,’ she agreed. ‘We’ll start with your family and go back—parents, grandparents, great-grandparents if you know of them—as far back as possible. Then later I’d like to know about your siblings and their families. What I’m hoping to end up with is a bunch of kids with similar bloodlines, some of whom did get leukaemia and some who didn’t.’
‘Then you’ll do DNA testing and try to find out why?’ Anne asked.
‘Exactly,’ Caitlin agreed, but as Anne reached for a writing pad and ballpoint pen, Caitlin knew she’d lost her—that the tenuous thread of friendship they’d established with talk of country towns and families had been snapped.
Anne had pulled back from her. But why?
She watched Anne scribble names on the paper, representing her family with a traditional ‘tree’.
‘There,’ Anne said, pushing her diagrammatic explanation towards Caitlin. ‘I’ve left blanks where I don’t know things. I’ve more information about Mum’s family than Dad’s. He’s related to the Russells but I think there’s a mix of generations there somewhere. Granny was the youngest of a large family and her older sister was having babies before Granny was born, so you could get confused there.’
She was being helpful. Too helpful? Caitlin studied the names.
‘This is great,’ she said, hoping a little enthusiasm might re-establish the earlier rapport.
‘Good!’ Anne replied, then she looked at her watch and stood up. ‘I have to go up to the school to collect the kids,’ she said.
So much for rapport! Caitlin stuck the sheet of paper in her file and followed Anne towards the front veranda.
‘You’ve other people to see?’ Anne called to her, when they’d said goodbye and Caitlin was walking down the front path towards the gate.
Outback Doctors/Outback Engagement/Outback Marriage/Outback Encounter Page 42
