by Cate Kendall
Caro flicked her fingers impatiently. ‘No, no, the long-term plans, I mean. You are aware rural land in this region is worth thirty-five thousand per hectare? You could get nine mil or even more, considering the views.’
Jessica gasped and quickly looked at her father to see his reaction.
During his career, Richard had captained his industry and become director of boards for many reasons, including his high intellect, superior negotiating skills, and balls of steel. But Richard Wainwright’s peers would acknowledge his greatest strength around the boardroom table was his poker face.
He turned to his daughter-in-law, the serene smile still playing on his face.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said simply. He took a sip of his drink and looked back at the view.
‘But–’ Caro tried.
‘I said, I don’t think so!’ Richard repeated pleasantly with his eyes closed and the same peaceful countenance. But Jessica, knowing her dear old dad as well as she did, heard the underlying icy tone and silently warned Caro to shut the hell up.
‘Well, I just think we have the right to know the property’s future, that’s all,’ Caro said in a small voice, taking a large gulp of her drink.
16
Rainbow and Songbird’s kids had spent a busy morning picking through the mini-skip from next door’s building site and creating an array of recycled Christmas ornaments. Tin-can baubles, foil tinsel and plasterboard angels hung from the fallen gum tree branch that was now their Christmas tree.
‘Kiani, that’s absolutely fantastic. Songbird,’ Rainbow called, ‘come and see the Christmas wreath Kiani’s made.’
Songbird, spade in hand, rounded the corner of the weatherboard house to where Rainbow and Kiani were admiring the artwork.
Kiani had found an old toilet seat and, after a thorough wipe down with vinegar and bi-carb, had wound wire around and around the u-shape. She’d then attached metal offcuts to the shape and made stars by binding together twigs and painting them silver. Fresh sprigs of poinsettia gave the wreath colour.
‘Girl, you’ve outdone yourself. That’s freaking fantastic.’ Songbird ruffled the elfin haircut of her eldest and went back to the compost heap.
‘Remy and Tyson helped, too,’ Kiani said, eager for credit to go where it was due, ‘but Darren, Taylor and Sunshine were just too annoying so I told them to go hunt for koalas.’
‘Good idea.’ Songbird laughed at her initiative, then turned back to the job at hand.
Rainbow followed her and picked up another spade to help turn the compost. The women worked away at the pile of muck in companionable silence, flicking and turning it in the early morning sunshine.
Rainbow suddenly downed tools as she remembered something. ‘I called Jessica this morning. Did you know she was going to bail tonight?’
Songbird looked up. ‘What? Why?’
‘She didn’t think that we would want her since she doesn’t have any kids to bring this year. She said she thought it was a BYO-kids-or-don’t-come deal.’
‘Stupid cow. Did you set her straight?’
‘Yeah! Of course.’
Jess had shared Christmas Eve eve with Rainbow and Songbird for the past four years. Her boys had revelled in the junkyard atmosphere of the hippies’ relaxed backyard, and their festive get-together had quickly become a much-enjoyed tradition.
‘I’m worried about her, Songbird. She’s still not quite right. We need to look after her.’
‘Course we do, but she’ll be right, mate. She’s a tough chick, it’ll take more than this to get her.’
‘I still can’t believe that Graham could walk away like that,’ Rainbow said as she flicked fresh manure onto the heap.
‘Don’t worry, as I’ve always said: karma will get the fucker.’ Songbird was well known in the community for her words of wisdom and philosophy.
Two small boys ran through the yard, trailing shredded silver insulation lining. ‘Taylor and Tyson, what are you doing?’ Song bird asked, with a scowl.
‘We’re being falling stars, Mum!’ Taylor shouted back as they zigzagged through the compost and ricocheted off the manure pile.
‘Meteors, you mean!’ Rainbow called to the disappearing silver streaks.
‘Yeah, meteors, Mum!’ Tyson yelled back.
‘We’re doing the astronomy module at the moment,’ Rainbow told Songbird.
‘Yeah. I start the human body next week, don’t I?’
‘Yep, that should be so exciting.’ As keen advocates of home schooling, the couple found that their children – especially the boys – learned faster if they got to experience their learning.
‘Tyson!’ Rainbow yelled and stopped turning compost as the child darted by again. Tyson stopped and turned back. His enormous green eyes peeped out from under his dirty blond dreadlocks. ‘Yeah, Mum?’
‘Name the planets.’
Tyson grinned and dropped his outstretched flying arms into a karate starting stance for his favourite solar system kata.
‘Mercury!’ he shouted and his arms crossed in front of his little body, arms finishing in fists. ‘Venus!’ His right knee came up and landed in front, the left arm crossing over then forward into a palm heel. ‘Earth!’ The palm heel dropped down and the left leg came forward in a quick kick. ‘Mars!’ Each planet announcement came attached to a sharply executed karate move. When he got to Neptune he finished with a neat little bow, hands and feet together.
‘What about Pluto?’ Songbird asked with a smile.
‘Pluto’s not a planet!’ he called out and zoomed off with his stepbrother.
The two mothers smiled at each other and continued their work.
‘They’re here!’ Sunshine yelled out. She’d been standing at the front fence awaiting Jessica’s arrival. Four-year-olds Darren and Sunshine squealed in excitement. ‘Let’s get this party started,’ they sang as they scrambled from the sandpit.
Jessica had stopped to pick up another friend, Petal, the local beautician, and her three children, Jasmine, Rose and Willow. She was glad to do it, as she still couldn’t get used to arriving at a kids’ party solo.
‘Hi, girls,’ Petal said with a broad grin as she hugged her friends.
Jessica was next in line and got an especially big hug from Songbird, who slipped a bit of healing reiki in her touch to give Jess strength.
‘Sorry about the mix-up, girls,’ Jessica explained as they moved into the kitchen to deposit their offerings of wine and snacks. ‘I didn’t know if it’d still be on ... you know, given the circumstances.’
‘You’re a dumb bitch, you know,’ growled Songbird as she rifled through the cupboard for a bowl to dump the carrot chips into. ‘Who do you think we are?’
‘Songbird means–’ Rainbow started.
‘I said what I meant,’ Songbird interrupted.
Jess laughed; she could well interpret Songbird’s gruff manner by now.
They loaded up with organic hummus, julienned vegies and preservative-free white wine and made their way out to the backyard.
The children were shrieking with delight as they all joined in on an impromptu game of Geology Jump; loosely based on leapfrog, it was an invention of Songbird’s during the ‘Mother Earth’ teaching module.
‘So, how goes it?’ Songbird asked Jessica. ‘Any progress with Graham?’
‘No, he still won’t return my calls,’ Jess said tightly.
‘I remember those days.’ Rainbow said. ‘Bloody Jim was really difficult in the beginning. Men are awful when it comes to custody; it’s not about the kids at all, in their mind. Suddenly, it’s as if the children are property that you’re trying to steal or something. Remember how he fought me in court until he finally got two days a week, and then he’d spend those two days at the office and have a nanny care for them? It made me so angry.’
‘That’s just crap,’ Petal sympathised.
‘Not half as bad as what Songbird went through. Tell ’em, Songbird.’
‘Straight aft
er the separation, Trev decided he just had to have the kids,’ Songbird said, and she took a drag from her rollie. ‘His life depended on it, apparently. You should have heard the sob stories at the mediation and through the lawyers. It was pathetic. Cost a freaking bomb. And the arguments in front of the kids! It was awful. Then when he finally got them fifty per cent of the time, he spent the whole the time on the phone to me whinging about them.’
‘God, you must have missed them so much,’ Jess said, shaking her head in sympathy.
‘I did. Then he’d guts-ache if he wanted to go out and I couldn’t drop everything and run over to pick them up. In the end he just stopped coming to collect them and now I have to phone him and remind him that he’s a father who has responsibilities, for Chrissakes.’
‘Moron,’ Petal said. ‘It would have saved a lot of money and time, and pain I’m sure, if he’d just let you have them from the start.’
‘Yeah, exactly,’ Rainbow said, ‘but they don’t care about the kids; it’s just about winning; and trying to weasel out of paying maintenance, of course.’
‘I just want to see my boys. He can keep his money and his new lover; it was pretty much over between us anyway,’ Jess said. ‘But I never thought he could do something like this to me.’
‘Hang in there, doll, it’ll happen,’ Songbird said. ‘It just takes time.’
‘And a good lawyer,’ Petal added.
‘I’d prefer to avoid any more of that for the boys’ sake,’ Jess said and sighed, her face pale and wan. ‘And I’m not their biological parent, so my rights are really blurry.’
‘You love them,’ Rainbow said, gently patting Jess’s arm, ‘that must count for something.’
‘Mums, we’re hungry!’ Kiani yelled, breaking the sadness of the moment.
‘Okay, you can have your first course,’ Rainbow called back. The children squealed and raced each other to the orchard, where they were each allowed to pick two pieces of fruit before lunch was served.
***
Lunch was a joyous grab-fest with Eugene enthusiastically joining the fray, fighting the kids for the salad. The adults and children sat around the outdoor table, which was an old door supported by two reclaimed builders’ trestles. Rainbow leaned behind her chair and grabbed handfuls of cherry tomatoes and sprigs of basil, dumping them in an old hubcap they had cleaned and repurposed as the salad bowl. Petal had brought her famous vegetarian lasagne and Jess had baked her trademark gingerbread people dressed in bikinis and board shorts.
‘Cute!’ Kiani squeaked. ‘Mine’s got a bellybutton ring.’
‘Thanks for the biscuits, Jess,’ Taylor said.
‘You’re welcome,’ Jess said and smiled at his serious little face.
‘Where are Liam and Callum? I miss them.’
‘Yes, I do too. They’re with their dad today.’
‘Oh, okay, yeah. I have to go to my dad’s tomorrow. Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon,’ he reassured her, and ran off. Jess hoped that his famous skill for premonition was accurate today.
After they had eaten, it was present time. As Rainbow reached into a red linen sack to bring out a handful of gift-wrapped delights, Jessica watched the children’s upturned faces. She remembered past Christmases so well. She would be so churned up with excitement by the time she went to bed each Christmas Eve that she’d be unable to sleep. The thought and effort that had gone into the perfect Christmas presents, the decoration, the evidence of Santa’s visit took Jess weeks of planning. Every year had been more exciting than the one before. The idyllic Christmases of her youth came rushing back each time she filled a stocking or decorated another corner of the house. The boys would get increasingly excited as each day passed, and they loved checking their advent calendars each dawn for that day’s surprise – Jessica had tailor-made the calendars so each day revealed a different small gift or treat.
Then last Christmas had happened. She’d never truly enjoy Christmas ever again, Jess thought bitterly as she watched her friends’ kids rip into their gifts.
‘Water pistols!’ the children yelled as the wrapping disintegrated.
Jessica stared at Rainbow and Songbird in amazement. ‘Guns?’
Songbird explained, ‘They’re made from recycled timber and the reservoirs are old drinking yoghurt pots.’ She looked over at the children filling up their guns from the water trough with glee. ‘They’re supposed to be used for shooting the rabbits away from the vegie garden and the Indian mynahs away from the native birds. But I’m sure the occasional war game could be overlooked.’
‘Kill each other with love!’ Rainbow warned as the children ran off, shrieking as they squirted each other.
17
It was the night before Christmas. The house was finally quiet after the festive family dinner. Jess threw the tablecloth into the laundry, and while she was there she checked the mousetrap and found one very still, furry creature. A quick, well-practised flick out the door into the compost heap disposed of the little corpse. The Buddhist sympathiser in her cringed while the homemaker in her breathed a sigh of relief that the cereal stored in the bottom of the pantry would see another day.
She glanced in at Charlotte and Hamish, snuggled up in their beds. They were finally asleep, exhausted after the big day. No doubt they were dreaming of the excitement that Christmas morning would bring. Carrots and milk sat by the fireplace awaiting Santa and his reindeer.
It had been a warm afternoon, but the forecast was for an unseasonably cool evening, which had now transpired. Caro and Genevieve were washing up, and the men had adjourned to the verandah. Heading into her room, Jess picked up her tie-dyed kerchief from the foot of the bed, wrapped it around her head and grabbed her Lee Mathews cardigan. She found her dad’s favourite woolly earflap cap to take out to him. Stupid Victoria. Completely unreliable weather, she grumbled to herself. At least Christmas Day was expected to be sunny, for a change.
The farmhouse was large and rambling. It had endured many renovations over its life but had finally settled into its current form: two wings off the central entry and living areas. The east wing housed a formal study and three double bedrooms – the master, which Eva and Richard had shared and which was still Richard’s, done in Ralph Lauren red and navy checks, and two guestrooms. This was known as the grown-up wing. Jessica had promoted herself from the bedroom she’d grown up in to the prettiest of the guest suites. It was a delight in French Provincial chic with a timber four-poster bed, rustic furniture, and patchwork and linen in a soothing array of creamy tones.
Angus and Caro used the other suite – a more sophisticated room in chocolate velvet and fawn metallics, with minimalist lines and a natural stone ensuite bathroom. Jessica had kept Caro’s subdued but luxurious tastes in mind when she’d decorated it a few years before.
The west wing was for the children: three bedrooms – including Callum and Liam’s old rooms – and a big rambling playroom came off the farm-style, pine kitchen. Copper-based saucepans hung from an overhead rack, clay pots housed timber implements, and jars of dried herbs rested on the wide windowsills.
Passing back through the central living room en route to the deck beyond, Jess replaced a stray gift that had fallen from one of the bulging stockings, and felt a pang of sadness as she thought of the cheery red felt personalised stockings she had made for her boys, which now sat empty in her bedside drawer.
She scooped up a piece of gift wrap that lurked under the coffee table from the one present each of the children had been allowed to open earlier. She smiled as she remembered Hamish’s excitement when he’d ripped the paper away from Richard’s extravagant gift: a battery-powered ride-on motorbike.
Her nephew had been speechless with delight and had sat on it for the rest of the night, roaring down an imaginary racetrack. Jess knew that there were two similar toys in the garage, wrapped and waiting for Richard’s other two grandsons, in case a miracle happened and Graham decided to relent and let the boys come to visit their other family.<
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Jessica had worked hard at the General Store until she knocked off just after lunch – she needed to keep busy for as long as she could. She’d come home and made a half-hearted effort to get things organised, but she knew that Caro would swoop in and take over anyway, so she’d left the linen unfolded, the food in the fridge unprepared and the table unset, then sat on the deck staring at the view. It seemed there was nothing she could do to calm her jangled nerves and stop thinking obsessively of how this time last year was the last truly happy day she could remember.
She and the boys had spent that day dropping homemade shortbread and gingerbread gifts into their neighbours, friends and local shopkeepers. By late afternoon, Liam had been overtired and over-excited as the Christmas tension mounted. He was sick of going from place to place delivering Christmas treats, and wanted to know why Santa wasn’t there now, and why they had to wait ‘forever’ until they could have their presents.
Jess winced to herself as she remembered how she had snapped at him. She was tired and strung out too, and Graham had been acting strangely for weeks. He hardly spoke to her and only laughed sarcastically and walked away if she tried to start up a conversation about their relationship.
If she’d known then that it would be her last day of carefree time with her boys, she might have held them longer, or just sat quietly and looked at their beautiful faces. And now, somehow, a whole year had passed. When Jess walked into the kitchen she caught the last snippets of conversation between Genevieve and Caro.
‘So he threw an almighty tantrum last night at bedtime,’ Caro was saying. ‘It was just awful. He was purple, I could barely hear what in the hell his problem was.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Genevieve said as she wiped another bowl and stacked it on the pile on the bench. ‘What was wrong?’
‘Well, I made the mistake of telling them we were heading down here first thing this morning and Hamish just started wailing and howling. I finally worked out what was wrong: he hadn’t told Santa yet what he wanted for Christmas.’
