Simon shrugged. “The question I guess, if not the baby.”
“It’s really no one’s business. But everyone presumes if you’ve got one baby, you must automatically want another.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t know what I want, Simon.”
He linked her arm through his, clasping her hand. “Maybe you should take a holiday.”
“Maybe.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “So you forgive me?”
“Mm.”
“And I’m off the hook now?” she said in a small voice.
“Not so fast. You still have to apologize to Barry.”
She looked up at him, batting her eyes.
“Those puppy-dog eyes won’t work on me. I’m immune.”
“Is it really necessary to apologize to him?”
“Only if you value your job.”
“Well…”
“Let me rephrase that, only if you value me!”
“Alright, alright. I’ll do it,” she relented. “Should I go and see him now?”
Simon shook his head. “Come up to the bar after work. He’ll be more receptive after he’s had a few drinks.”
* * *
Meg didn’t want to stay long. She had one drink, enough to give her a little Dutch courage, and then she walked directly up to Barry. He was leaning against the bar, surrounded by his little army of yes men.
“Meg,” he nodded dubiously.
“Barry,” she returned. “I’m sorry about what I said at the meeting today.”
He watched her, waiting.
“I didn’t mean to insult you. It was actually intended more to shock you. I just wanted to demonstrate the less tasteful side of what you were suggesting.”
She took a breath, clenching her nails into the palms of her hands. “I’m sure we can work on your idea.”
Barry studied her for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. I told my wife at lunch today. She slapped me.”
* * *
Meg walked back to the office. She wanted to phone Chris to let him know she was running late. The call was diverted to his mobile.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Hi honey, you’re still at work?”
“I had to see the boss about something. I was just about to leave.”
“I’m on my way home, I’ll pick up Harrison.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Call waiting beeps came onto the line.
“That’s me, I’d better take it,” said Meg.
“See you at home,” Chris rang off.
She waited for the other call to connect. “Meg Lynch,” she said wearily.
“Hello Meg Lynch.”
She recognized the voice straightaway. It was Jamie. Her stomach lurched and she felt her heart racing. She was an idiot.
“Meg, are you there?”
She regained her voice. “Yes.”
“It’s me, Jamie.”
“Hello.”
“How’ve you been?”
“Fine,” she said curtly.
He didn’t say anything, but she could hear him breathing.
“Is there something you wanted, Jamie? Because I was just on my way home, my husband’s expecting me,” she said, as much to remind herself.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going away.”
“Why would you bother calling to tell me that? I haven’t heard from you in a month, you could have been on the moon for all I knew.” She tried to keep a level voice, but she suspected she sounded like a fishwife.
“I’m going to New Zealand. Just for a week or so. Sea-kayaking.”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “That’s nice, Jamie. Why are you telling me this?”
“Do you want to come?”
“What?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”
“What?” she repeated.
“I was calling to see if you wanted to come sea-kayaking with me in New Zealand,” he said patiently. “It’s not scary or dangerous, but it is heaps of fun.”
Meg started to laugh. She leaned back against her desk. “Tell me, exactly what stratum of reality do you exist in?”
“The same one you do.”
“I doubt it, or else you’d realize that it’s impossible for me to come with you.”
“Nothing’s impossible, Meg.”
“You know, some things are, when you’ve got a child and a husband and a job—”
“You’ve also got choices.”
“No I don’t.”
“Of course you do.”
“I’ve already made all my choices. And now the rest of my life is all mapped out.”
“That’s a cop-out. Of course you’ve got choices. And you keep making them every day.”
Meg was silent, she didn’t have a comeback.
“And that’s okay, Meg, as long as you realize what you’re doing. You’re making choices every day, day in, day out. It’s up to you if you want things to be different.”
She sighed. “It’s not as simple as you make out.”
“It is that simple. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It takes a lot of courage.”
“And as we have already established, I don’t possess any of that.”
“Oh, I think maybe you do, it’s just untapped.”
For some reason, she felt a lump in her throat.
“So, I can’t talk you into this trip?”
“’Fraid not.”
“Some other time, then?”
“Some other lifetime.”
There was a pause. “See you, Meg.”
“Bye.”
March
Ally looked out the window of the kitchen. This was probably her favorite time of the year in the Highlands. The leaves on the trees were just turning, and the lawns were lush green now that the heat of February had eased. The days were still mild, the nights becoming just slightly cooler. Perhaps she could talk Lillian into taking a walk around the gardens today.
The guests had tapered off toward the end of February, though Ally had been taking a lot of bookings for March and April. Like herself, there was no shortage of people who preferred autumn.
The last month had gone by in a blur, Ally couldn’t remember a busier time in her life. No wonder running the guesthouse was getting beyond Lillian, Ally was exhausted. There were so many details to remember. Nic was wonderful, she had energy to burn, and her sense of humor kept Ally going.
And Rob had thawed out, just as Nic had predicted. Once he’d come to know her better they had developed a solid rapport. Not that he was one to chat, but he wasn’t curt either, as Ally had initially assumed. Rob just didn’t need as many words as other people to express himself. It was hardly a character flaw. And besides, Nic talked enough for two people, at least.
She hardly had the time to work out whether she missed teaching. But she had missed Meg, and Harrison especially. She’d asked them to come down a number of times, but Meg kept giving excuses.
“It’s not the easiest thing just to pack up a family and take off for the weekend, you know, Ally,” she’d said crisply during one phone call.
“I realize that. I just thought you might like the break.”
“You don’t ever get a break when you’ve got a child.”
It wasn’t like Meg to play the martyr.
“Then you should come away just yourself.”
“Chance would be a fine thing!” But then her voice softened. “Look, you’re too busy to be entertaining me.”
“If you came early in the week…”
“I can’t get away from work at the moment. We’ll see in a few weeks.”
Ally wondered what was going on with her, and she kept meaning to phone her more often. But then another week passed, and another.
Lillian rarely seemed to come out of her room. The MRI had revealed what the doctors called a “shadow.” That wasn’t good enough for Richard, who was still reeling from the shock of the news of Lillian’s accident. He
flew up from Melbourne, spending the next week bringing in specialists from the city to give him an explanation. But no one could.
The shadow was a dense area in her brain that had probably expanded due to an atypical migraine, they told him. It would have disrupted oxygen flow, causing disorientation, dizziness, perhaps some loss of feeling in her hands or feet, all contributing to the fall. That was the consensus, anyway. No one could be really sure what caused it, or if it could happen again. Stress was the only contributing factor any of the doctors could pinpoint with certainty.
Ally prepared Lillian’s lunch and carried the tray through to her apartment, setting it down as usual on the small dining table. She had brought a sandwich in for herself as well. This was usually the first chance she had to eat since a very early breakfast, so it was a good opportunity to have lunch and keep Lillian company.
She walked through the French doors into Lillian’s bedroom. She was lying back on her bed, propped up with pillows.
“Lunch is ready, Lillian. Aren’t you coming out?”
“You know, Ally, would it be a bother to bring it in to me?”
She frowned. “Are you alright?”
“Don’t look like that, I’m fine. I felt a little dizzy before and so I did the right thing and stayed off my feet.”
Ally didn’t like her staying in bed like this. It made her seem more of an invalid. But she carried the tray in and set it down on the bedside table, handing Lillian her cup of tea.
“How did the morning go?”
“Quietly.” Ally pulled a chair over and sat facing her. “The rush starts again at the weekend.”
“So are you going to have a break this afternoon?”
“Yes. I was hoping that you and I could take a stroll in the gardens.”
“If you could stand the excitement, dear,” Lillian said dubiously. “Why don’t you call Matthew? You could go for a real walk with him.”
Ally smiled, shaking her head. Lillian liked to bring Matt’s name up in conversation as often as possible. She had grand ideas about the two of them, and didn’t seem to accept Ally’s insistence that nothing was going on.
Ally had thanked Matt for the flowers the next time she’d seen him, and nothing had been said about the episode again. He called around for coffee now and then, and he had asked her out a couple of times, but she was so busy that she always had to turn him down. Truth be told, Ally was glad to have an excuse. She didn’t want to start anything she wasn’t going to be around to finish. She was only staying here temporarily, to help out Lillian.
“Matt’s working, I expect, Lillian.”
“Then why don’t you go out for dinner or something? I’m sure they can do without you for a night.”
“You know, Lillian, a night off is just that to me—a night where I don’t have to do anything.”
Lillian shook her head in disgust. “Young girl like you, attractive and single, and a young man like him, the same, and the two of you can’t get your act together.”
“Why are you so keen to matchmake?”
“Well, it just seems like such a waste.”
Ally laughed.
“What I wonder is, why are you so reluctant?” Lillian continued. “I’ve had this conversation with Matthew, and he said that you keep turning him down.”
Ally had turned red as a beetroot. “Why did you talk about this with Matt?”
“Because I was interested to know why nothing was happening.”
“Lillian, just because we’re two single people who know each other, doesn’t automatically mean we belong together.”
“Don’t you like him, Ally?”
“It’s not that,” she sighed. Ally decided to be blunt, it might be the only way she would get Lillian off her back. “To be honest, Lillian, he reminds me a little too much of my grandfather.”
“In what way?”
“Oh, living out of town, all alone, building a house…”
Lillian stared at her. “Yes, go on?”
Ally shrugged. “It just makes me feel uneasy.”
Lillian studied her for a moment. “Why do you think your grandparents moved down to the property?”
Ally hesitated. What was she getting at? She may as well be honest. “My grandfather had his own selfish ideas about a lifestyle change and he dragged his family along with him, whether they liked it or not.”
“So that’s what you think?” Lillian paused, considering. “Did your Nan ever tell you anything about your mother?”
“Not much,” Ally replied curiously. “She always said she would, when I got older. All I know is that she ran away. She must have hated growing up there. I did.”
“You know it wasn’t the first time she had run away.”
Ally shrugged. “So, she tried more than once? That doesn’t surprise me.”
“She ran away before they ever left Sydney. I think she was barely fourteen the first time.”
Ally frowned, waiting for Lillian to go on.
“Your mother was constantly in trouble, Ally. She played truant from school, she was caught shoplifting, there was always something.
“Your grandparents moved her to a very expensive private school, arranged counseling for her, but nothing seemed to work. In the end she was asked to leave the school in no uncertain terms. Back in the state system she just kept breaking all the rules, until they had no choice but to suspend her, which was just what she wanted. She was out of control.”
“How did it get to that?” Ally was amazed that her stern, forbidding grandfather had not managed to pull his daughter into line.
Lillian shrugged. “She was in a ‘bad crowd,’ Margaret used to say, like every parent of a difficult child. Who knows? They decided the only thing they could do was to remove her from the environment altogether.”
“Is that when they came down here?”
She nodded. “James resigned from his job.”
“He was a solicitor, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, that’s how he and Roger knew each other. James heard that we’d brought a property down here and he asked Roger a lot of questions about the area. We invited James and Margaret down to stay, and they put a deposit on the Kangaroo Valley property the same weekend. Roger thought he was mad, but he did respect him. He had never known a man to give up so much for his family, especially in those days.”
Ally stood up and walked to the window. She stared out to the garden, trying to absorb what Lillian had just told her. He gave up everything … for his family?
“It was unheard of for a man to leave a profession like law and try his hand at hobby farming. But he felt so strongly that he had to focus on Jennifer and not be preoccupied with a career. That’s why they didn’t spend a lot on the property—they didn’t want to use up the funds from the sale of their house in Sydney. They both thought it was probably a good idea to live more simply anyway. Jennifer had been a spoilt only child, they realized, and she needed to learn a different way.
“But things were much harder than they expected. James didn’t really know how much work was involved in looking after a property, and they realized that they had probably made a mistake. But it was too late, they wouldn’t have been able to sell Circle’s End anyway.”
“Why not?”
“It was during one of the downturns in the market. So they had to live very frugally, and the long-planned-for house was never built.”
Ally sank down on the window seat. She thought about Nan complaining quietly to Lillian. It wasn’t about James, it was just about their predicament.
“Jennifer was resentful, she started to get herself into as much mischief as she could. In the end, I think it was a relief when she left.”
Ally couldn’t help feeling disorientated by all this new information. Surely there had to be more to it. “Well then, she was obviously not very welcome, when she came back with me.”
Lillian shook her head. “No, they treated her like the prodigal daughter. And you, well, they adored you. They c
ouldn’t believe that something so wonderful could be salvaged from the whole mess.” She watched Ally’s expression. “You know, in those early days, you used to cling to your grandfather, you wouldn’t let him out of your sight.”
Ally stared at her. “I don’t remember.”
“I didn’t think so. You were so little. Margaret was taken up looking after Jennifer, and so James devoted himself to you. He often used to tell me it was the happiest time of his life.”
Ally blinked back tears. “Why did Nan have to look after my mother?”
“Oh, Ally,” Lillian sighed. “You really know nothing about her, do you?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t seem to want to talk about her. Not that they ever said anything bad.”
“They were protecting you, of course.” She hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t be the one to tell you all of this.”
“Then who else will?” Ally said plaintively. “There is no one else, Lillian.”
She sighed. “Very well. Pour yourself a cup of tea, and come and sit here, closer. Some of what I have to tell you is not going to be easy to hear.”
Two weeks later
Ally looked out the window of the kitchen. This used to be her favorite time of the year in the Highlands. Not anymore. The gold leaves looked pallid, lifeless. They only changed color because they had started to die. They were parched, not beautiful at all. Why hadn’t she ever realized that before? Autumn was a dying season.
And now Lillian was dead too.
How could a shadow kill someone? Someone who was alive and talking one night, and lifeless the next morning when Ally went to wake her for breakfast.
Richard was relieved she had gone in her sleep. Relieved? He was more of a fool than Ally had realized. She had barely made it through the funeral, and now she had to deal with this noisy throng taking over Lillian’s home, eating her food. She couldn’t stand all the people smiling, pressing their hands into hers. Everyone saying it was a lovely service, Richard and Phillipa spoke beautifully, very moving. What were they talking about? There was nothing good in Lillian dying.
They were all in there now, celebrating Lillian’s life, when all Ally wanted to do was mourn her death.
“Ally, could you carry this tray of canapés out?”
It was Rob. His voice was quiet, tentative. She turned away from the window and looked at him. She could see the pain in his eyes. Ally had tried to send him home the day Lillian died. But Rob dealt with his grief by working. He threw himself into preparing an elaborate spread for the wake. He’d hardly slept for the last two days, cooking as though it was the most important thing he had ever done. As though it was for Lillian.
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