by Di Morrissey
‘I can see why Rose chose to marry Lawrence, but she must have found Kingsley Downs so remote and lonely after the exciting life she’d been used to, don’t you think?’ wondered Joanna.
‘Yes, I can understand it if she did, but I don’t think it lonely. Really it’s not,’ said Cindy. ‘The landscape, the wildlife, the people always coming through. Even the solitude is comforting somehow. But of course that’s just my opinion. I can’t speak for Rose. Maybe she never found a good friend like I did.’ She smiled at Jo.
‘Or maybe you have a much nicer husband,’ said Jo bleakly.
‘Definitely,’ said Cindy. ‘Although I’m not sure how I’m going to explain to him about Sally’s sudden passion to learn the piano. We might have to start sending her off to Mrs Henderson in Yamboola for lessons.’
*
Cindy wanted to share the news of finding Marie with Murray as soon as she could, so once the children were asleep in their motel room that night, she phoned him. Softly, trying to keep the excitement in her voice contained so as not to wake the children, she quickly summarised the visit to the house in Randwick. There was stunned silence for a moment at the other end of the phone.
‘So you just walked in on her and Aunt Marie welcomed you with open arms! How extraordinary.’
‘She was very gracious,’ explained Cindy. ‘And she wants you and Russell to visit as soon as possible. Sally was very taken with her. Did you know what a talented pair of sisters your mother and Marie were? They were quite famous. Suzanne was really impressed when Jo told her whom we’d met today. Oh, and the pictures of your mother! She was so beautiful. And did you know that Sally wants to learn to play the piano? She said she’s always wanted to, but she’s never mentioned it to me before. Strange.’
‘First I’ve heard of all this, too. I vaguely remember my mother saying something about dancing,’ said Murray, his voice somewhat cool. ‘But after she left, music and dance didn’t rate too highly in our all-male household. What else did Marie say about my mother?’
Cindy hesitated at his subdued tone. ‘Marie told me a bit about your mother’s career. She also said that they didn’t see each other much after Rose married your father. She did mention that she wrote and sent you presents for years, but they were all returned to her, unopened.’
Murray was quiet for a moment. ‘I see. Well, I’m glad the kids saw her. I’ve missed you. Have you had fun while you’ve been in Sydney?’
Cindy sensed his changing the subject meant he was uncomfortable talking any more about his mother. Cindy wondered if Lawrence was in earshot. ‘We’ve had a ball. But I’ll be glad to get home. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. It’s still a bit dry. Hope we get rain soon.’
Cindy was now used to men on the land repeating the mantra of no rain or too much rain. She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Of course. See you tomorrow. I love you, Murray.’
‘I love you, too,’ he said as he hung up.
Cindy sighed as she replaced the handset in its cradle. It was like pulling teeth to get Murray to open up and tell her what he really felt about things. She had hoped he would want to connect with Marie immediately, but he had seemed somewhat noncommittal. At least she had the photographs and cuttings from Marie to show him. Maybe that would stir him into action so he might at least talk to his aunt.
*
The children were tired from their long trip home to Kingsley Downs, so they had a quick dinner before falling into bed and were asleep almost as soon as the lights went out.
Murray was alone on the verandah, sipping a beer, his feet stretched out on a calfskin stool. He went to get up as Cindy joined him, carrying the manila envelope.
‘Stay there, darling. I’ve brought something to show you.’ Sitting down in the chair next to him, Cindy opened the envelope and pulled out the photographs and cuttings, which she handed to Murray. She waited as he silently flipped through them.
‘Aren’t they lovely? Have you ever seen them before?’ Cindy prodded. ‘Rose was so beautiful. And Marie is such fun. Look, there are these newspaper and magazine articles, too. How fabulous your parents looked on their wedding day.’
Silently Murray studied the contents of the envelope.
Suddenly Lawrence loomed in front of them. ‘Is there something I should know?’ he demanded.
Murray was so startled that he fumbled as he tried to put everything back into the envelope, dropping a magazine cutting on the floor in his haste. Lawrence’s eyes bulged as he caught sight of an image of Rose.
Cindy jumped to her feet, deciding to take the bull by the horns. Keeping her voice calm, she said, ‘Lawrence, while I was in Sydney I tracked down Marie Williams, Murray’s aunt, and she gave us a selection of photographs of Rose. She thought the children and Murray would be interested.’
Lawrence’s face was like thunder. He went to snatch the envelope from his son, but Murray pulled it out of reach.
‘That woman had no right interfering in our family. If I had known of your intentions in Sydney, Cynthia,
I would have forbidden it!’
‘Dad, please …’ began Murray.
Lawrence glared at Cindy and said angrily, ‘Why must you meddle all the time? Why are you so intent on raking over old coals? Just leave well enough alone.’
‘I did it because I think our children should know their family,’ snapped Cindy.
‘We have no family, especially not those Pearsons!’ He picked up the cutting that Murray had dropped and tore it in half, throwing the pieces onto the floor.
‘Stop being so selfish,’ hissed Cindy. ‘I think the children should at least be able to see photos of their grandmother.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ said Lawrence coldly. ‘She forfeited that right many years ago.’ He glared at Cindy, apparently about to say more, but then snapped his mouth closed and strode back inside.
‘Cin … please, leave it,’ said Murray. ‘I know you thought it was the right thing to do to find Aunt Marie, but she’s obviously someone Dad doesn’t want back in our lives.’
‘Marie isn’t Rose! Can we have no contact with anyone else? Murray, why is he like this? What’s his problem? Whatever happened between him and your mother all those years ago, he’s got to let it go and stop punishing the rest of us for it,’ said Cindy furiously.
‘Maybe he can’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing. Nothing.’ Murray downed the last of his drink. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he said, and he stood up and took two steps towards the door.
‘Both of you running off, unable to face whatever needs to be confronted. Like father, like son,’ said Cindy hotly. She had been so excited about finding Marie and showing Murray the wonderful pictures, and now Lawrence had spoiled it, just as he spoiled so much else.
Murray spun on his heel and looked straight at Cindy.
His face was flushed, his eyes burning with anger, and he was breathing hard as if trying to restrain himself. He took two steps towards her and she backed away, bumping into the wall behind her. She looked at his contorted face, and saw that his body was rigid and shaking. For a moment she almost felt afraid of her husband. He took a step towards her, his hands balled in fists, and she closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall. A moment passed and nothing happened. She opened her eyes and saw that the anger had drained out of him, leaving him limp, his head hung low.
‘I … I am nothing like my father,’ he whispered, backing away from her.
‘Murray …’ Cindy started to say, stunned.
‘Just leave it,’ he said, holding his hands up. Quietly, he took the steps down into the garden and Cindy listened to his footsteps fading away into the darkness.
He didn’t return for some time, but when he slipped into bed, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her gently. They slept entwined and at peace.
&n
bsp; *
The following morning, Lawrence took off for Melbourne without telling Murray anything about his plans. Cindy was relieved that he would be away from them for a while at least. The atmosphere about the house quickly became a lot more relaxed. The children ran and squealed and played hide and seek boisterously. Cindy told Mrs Flowers that she’d cook the dinner that evening, which they all ate together on the screened verandah. After dinner, they played board games and, as he’d never played them as a kid, Murray always managed to lose, to the delight of his children. After this pleasant family evening, and when the children were settled in bed, Cindy suggested the two of them have a quiet nightcap.
They sat close together on the sofa.
‘I’m sorry for what I said last night,’ she said. ‘You’re not like your father. And I’m sorry he got so upset when he found out about Marie and the photos.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ said Murray, ‘but let’s not talk about it.’
‘But why, darling?’
Murray put his glass down. ‘Why do you Yanks have to chew through things, analyse everything?’ He tried to sound jokey and light-hearted, but his tone had a rough edge.
Cindy was having none of it. ‘It’s called communication. And stop saying “Yank”. Pushing things away and avoiding important discussions isn’t healthy. Besides, the children are interested in their grandmother,
Sally especially. I think she’ll treasure those photos.’ She paused, waiting for Murray to make a comment, but he was silent. ‘Do you think your father kept pictures or letters from your mother somewhere in the house?’
‘No.’
Cindy stared at Murray’s pinched face, his tight expression. ‘How do you know for sure?’
‘Because I saw him burn a pile of her things years ago.’ His voice was bitter. ‘I asked you to leave things alone. I don’t want to talk about this.’
‘Murray, why are you like this? Why won’t you at least talk about your mother with me? I’m your wife. Are you hurt because she left you? I can understand that –’
‘No! You can’t possibly understand!’ he suddenly burst out.
Cindy jerked back in shock. ‘Murray, I’m sure you’re wrong and, if you tell me, I’ll understand, I promise. Please share what you’re feeling with me. You can’t keep bottling up all this pain and … suffering –’
Murray jumped to his feet, his hands curled in fists, his knuckles white and his face contorted in pain. ‘Please, Cindy, I can’t talk about it. It hurts too much.’
She stood up and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her, but his head hung down and, to her shock, she saw tears squeeze from his tightly closed eyes.
‘Murray, you know you can trust me. You have got to tell me whatever it is that you’ve hidden from me since we first met. I don’t care how bad it is, you need to get it out. For God’s sake, share it with me, or one of us will go crazy.’ She spoke urgently, in a low voice, guiding him back down onto the sofa. She was hugely relieved when he allowed her to lead him, though when he sat down he dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders slumped.
He was crying. Cindy rested her arm across his shoulders. ‘Start at the beginning,’ she said softly. She heard the slight tremor in her voice. She knew she might not like what was to come, but she said soothingly, ‘It doesn’t matter how bad it is, Murray. I’m your wife and I love you and I’m here for you, always.’
His shoulders shook and in a small broken voice he said, ‘I was just a kid. A little kid. I didn’t know what to do …’
‘Do about what, darling?’ she said encouragingly.
Murray took a deep breath and put his hands together between his knees, and started to speak.
‘I don’t know how long or how many times it happened. I should have noticed, but she never said anything. Some days she stayed in bed all day, curtains drawn so it was dark. Dad said she was sick, but now
I think she was just very unhappy.’ He paused and Cindy waited, hardly daring to draw breath. ‘She was always so quiet. At times she would keep me at arm’s length and
I thought she didn’t love me, but at other times she hugged me so hard it hurt.’
‘And your father? What did he say?’ asked Cindy, trying to keep her voice calm.
‘He just said not to worry about her. But one night I heard them arguing, and she was shouting. I’d never heard her raise her voice before, so I got out of bed and tiptoed towards them and I heard her saying, “Lawrence, I can’t live like this.” And then Dad said, “You’re here now, so just get used to it. It’s about time you did.” ’ Murray wiped a hand across his eyes. ‘I was scared, and I ran back to bed and hid under the covers. I’d never heard them arguing like that before. I heard Mum come into the room and she stood by my bed and rested her hand on me. I pretended to be asleep. I wished I could say something, but I didn’t know what to say.’
He was struggling and Cindy knew there was more to come. ‘You poor little boy,’ she whispered.
‘Another time I was home on holidays and, early one morning when it was barely dawn, I heard them arguing again. It was a Sunday, so the Flowerses weren’t around and I thought Dad would be getting ready for church.
I always went with him. Then I heard Mum cry out and
I ran to see what was going on.’ He stopped. Murray lifted his head and stared into the distance, and then spoke so calmly that Cindy was frightened of what would come next.
‘She was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the tub, holding her face. What I remember most was the blood; she was bleeding from her nose and mouth. My father was standing over her, holding her arm, trying to pull her to her feet. I ran to him and grabbed his arm, shouting for him to stop. He just flicked me away, and got my mother to stand. She had one hand on her mouth and the other was holding on to the door. My father grabbed me and said, “Your mother fell and hit her head on the bathtub. Help her clean herself up. I have to go to church.” And he left. My mother just repeated what my father had said, but in a flat voice. So I got a towel and she began to wipe her face. When she’d stopped bleeding and had cleaned herself up, she went back to bed.’ Murray took a breath. ‘I stayed and I scrubbed and scrubbed the bathroom, trying to get rid of all the blood. Have you any idea how much there is from a bleeding nose and mouth? I thought I’d wear through the floor. Mum stayed in bed and when I finished she said I was a good boy. A big help. She was going to rest, please don’t say anything to anyone and worry them. She’d be fine, it was just a silly accident. But I knew it wasn’t an accident, because when I’d looked through the partly opened bathroom door, I had seen my father hit her, more than once.’
Murray stopped.
Cindy gasped. She was stunned. So this was the secret that Murray had kept hidden all these years.
‘Cindy, Mum was so unhappy, and I knew Dad hit her and I couldn’t help her. I could do nothing, so that’s why she ran away. If I could have made her happy, she would have stayed. I was useless to her. That’s why I don’t want to talk about it. If I’d been stronger, if I’d stood up to him, she would have stayed, I just know it.’ His voice broke.
Cindy hugged Murray tight. ‘Murray, Murray darling, you were a little boy. Of course you couldn’t do anything. It was not your fault that your mother left.
If she was being beaten by your father, you would have been the only thing keeping her here. I’m sure she didn’t blame you for anything. Why would she? Your father was the one who drove her away, not you.’
Cindy was aghast that her husband had been carrying this unnecessary guilt around with him all these years.
It was tragic.
Murray shook his head violently from side to side, as if trying to shake the memory from his head. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know. There was so much blood. I hated seeing my beautiful mother like that. I felt so helpless. So … inadequate.’ He drew a shaky breath. ‘I went ba
ck to school as soon as the holidays were over, but I hated not knowing what was happening to her back home.’
Cindy watched as he got up and paced around the room. ‘Did she come and see you at school?’
‘Yes. Once. With Dad. That was the last time I saw her. She left before I came back home again.’
‘I don’t suppose you ever discussed this with your father?’
Murray looked at her, his face a picture of horror.
‘No! Of course not. My father was so distraught, so upset when she left, that I actually felt sorry for him. He put his arms around me for the first and only time I can remember, saying over and over, “You’re all I’ve got. Don’t ever leave me, son. Your mother didn’t love either of us enough, but I won’t ever run out on you like she did.” So there was just us after that for years, until I found you.’
‘Oh, my poor darling. You’ve carried all this around with you for all these years …’ Cindy tightened her arms around her husband, who wept unashamedly on her shoulder.
Suddenly the door opened, and Gordon stood there, frowning.
‘Mum, what’s going on?’
‘It’s all right, honey. Your dad is upset. I showed him the photos of his mom, your grandmother, and he’s feeling sad.’
Gordon looked bewildered. He’d never seen his father be anything other than strong. ‘Will Grandfather be sad, too, when he sees them?’
Cindy held out an arm. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you come and give your dad a hug.’
Gordon ran to them and wrapped his arms around them both. Seeing Murray’s face, he gave Cindy a worried look. ‘Daddy is crying.’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Cindy gently. ‘And that’s okay. It’s good. It shows how much he loved his mom.’
Murray straightened up and hugged Gordon to him. ‘I love you, my big boy.’
