*
By the time Alex had washed up, Cait was delivering a pot of green tea and biscuits to the veranda, setting it and herself on the top step next to Alex in the sun. She’d been lucky with the weather so far. It had been mostly sunshine, more like spring than winter. The nights were characteristically cold, but a well-stocked woodpile was making the job of keeping warm easier.
‘This place is pretty special, isn’t it?’ Alex said, throwing a stick and watching the two dogs vie for ownership. ‘I’ve never stopped here long enough to appreciate how spectacular the view is. What do you think you’ll do with the house?’
‘To be honest, I don’t want to think about any of that, or the improbability of all four of us agreeing, until I’m forced to. I want to enjoy the place before the fireworks.’
‘Thought you said your stay was all about letting the house talk to you. All sounds a bit ouija board to me.’
‘Talking? More like yelling if the four of us can’t agree. We haven’t kept in touch or seen each other for twenty years. We might as well be strangers. We never agreed on much at school, mostly because we were so darn different, and I was the bunny who always got stuck in the middle trying to smooth everything over. The house might have to do more than talk.’
‘Tsk! Tsk! Sounds like we have a non-believer in our presence, oh spooky house,’ Alex joked.
‘Hey, I’m a doctor. Give me some scientific evidence.’ Caitlin took a turn throwing the stick. Nothing gave Cait the same hug on the inside as watching her best friend romp unrestrained. Karma was clearly embracing her new-found freedom and her new furry friend. ‘Funny thing is, though, there does seem to be something about this place.’ She shivered, remembering the potpourri of memories and scent that had greeted her when she’d opened the front door. ‘I don’t know how else to describe it other than to say I felt instantly at home when I walked inside.’
Of course it may have been the lingering aroma of turpentine and paint. Gypsy had made her meagre income through her art. Using discarded tiles collected from the junk man in Saddleton, she had painted miniature landscapes, making her own colours by mixing oils and natural pigment sourced from the land around Cedar Cutters Gorge.
‘They are the rich man’s postcard,’ she’d said to Caitlin one day. ‘Small, economical, easy to sell, even easier to pack in a travel bag.’
‘But what about these?’ Cait looked around the room in which Gypsy stored the half-dozen unfinished paintings on large canvases. ‘When are you going to finish these?’
‘I finish them all the time.’ Gypsy took the old sheet from Cait and draped it back across the largest of the paintings—a portrait of Willow. ‘With some of them I simply start again. I’m like a writer who creates a story and rewrites it over and over, each time adding new depth and detail, perfecting the perfect. The difference is that my words are my colours. Then again …’ she added with a melancholy smile, taking a final peek at Willow’s portrait before adjusting the drape, ‘some things are already perfect. Some of us, however, must continue to grow and change. Change can be good. Remember that.’
‘So …’ Alex nudged Cait. ‘What’s the connection between you four and this place anyway?’
Caitlin thought about the question, knowing only one answer existed. Saying it aloud, even after all this time, didn’t come easy, especially given she’d carried not so much guilt, but shame. She’d been the eldest of the four, the responsible one. People had expected better of Caitlin Wynter, both before and after the incident.
‘You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about that,’ she eventually said. ‘I don’t know why she left it to the four of us. We were young, stupid and selfish. We all took what we needed from Gypsy in our own way, but when it came to giving back …’
Closing her eyes did nothing to stop the images from that day.
‘It shouldn’t have happened. I was the oldest. I could’ve … should’ve intervened. Instead I went along, following Poppy’s lead. We all did back then. Poppy called the shots. All Willow had wanted to do was join in the fun that muck-up day. I didn’t see the harm, but Poppy … Poppy, I remember, had seemed distracted. She had been for months, like she couldn’t wait until the year was over, like she didn’t want to be slowed down—and poor Willow slowed us down sometimes.’
‘Willow was Gypsy’s daughter, right?’
Cait fixed her gaze on the white-knuckled fists in her lap and nodded silently as the pull of her memories returned her to the bridge.
‘The four of us never spoke about what happened. Not after we found her, not after the funeral, not even after twenty years when we met in the office in Sydney last year. I think maybe that’s why none of us stayed in touch, which is sad, because Poppy and Sara and I—not so much Amber—had been good friends once.’
‘So where did Willow fit in?’
The poignancy of the question forced a sad sigh. ‘Fit in? She didn’t fit in, that was the problem. When we were much younger, we’d all come over here to play. I mostly came to hang out with the animals.’
‘What else!’
‘I tried to teach Willow how to ride little Ruby, but her leg brace made it too challenging.’
‘Birth deformity?’
Cait nodded without looking up. ‘Stands to reason. Gypsy wouldn’t have been young. I’m guessing mid to late forties when she gave birth to Willow. You’re talking high risk to both mother and baby at that age. Gossip at the time had been rife. That’s fairly natural for a small town, I guess.’
‘About as natural as dunghill steam.’
Cait appreciated Alex’s attempt to make her laugh.
‘I was only a toddler at the time, but I heard stuff as I grew up.’
‘So you were a smarty pants kid? Bet you were a cutie, too. Whereas I was and still am the kind only a mother could love.’
‘Some mothers don’t have a choice.’ Cait let herself laugh—it was either that or cry as the memories dragged her down. ‘Gypsy called Willow a gift from God. She said he sprinkled a little magic mist and finally gave her a child.’
‘Magic mist, eh? You’d best stay away from any of that while you’re here and hope your mother doesn’t get wind of the stuff, or before you know it, you’ll be meeting that ultimate expectation of hers—if you know what I mean.’ Alex prodded her in the ribs before realising Cait was crying. He reached out and hooked her neck in the crook of his arm, squeezing gently and pulling her head onto his chest. ‘Hey, come on, big girls don’t cry. You know you don’t have to tell me all this. Tell me instead to go away and mind my own freakin’ business.’
Cait answered with a little shake of her head, the sense of relief stronger than the sense of remorse. It urged her to keep talking.
‘As we got older, all four of us made time for Willow only when it suited us. There was so much she couldn’t do. She was a couple of years younger than me. The same age as Sara and Amber, give or take a few months, but you wouldn’t have known to look at her. Willow seemed so fragile. The way Gypsy treated her you’d have thought she was made of glass.
‘I know being treated differently frustrated Willow, and the older she got, the harder it was for her. Who doesn’t want to be part of a group when they’re a teenager! All she wanted was to belong, to be one of the regular crowd and not singled out.’
‘Oh, I know that feeling! Try questioning your sexuality at fourteen. Talk about cruelty. I’m sure you and your friends weren’t cruel like I knew cruel.’
‘Maybe not cruel, but insensitive. I was the oldest, the sensible one. Everyone expected me to—’
‘Everyone?’ Alex shifted on the step, nudging Cait, forcing her into an upright position to face him. ‘Was it everyone else expecting things, or was it Caitlin Wynter? I’m thinking you are the one with the high expectations.’ He poked her gently in the ribs and she flinched, swiping his hand away. ‘You should cut yourself a bit of slack. I reckon your Gypsy might be glad you’re here and remembering all this stuff.’
/>
‘You think she wanted us to remember and that’s what the house thing is about?’
Alex shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m not the one with the crystal ball here. Nothing crystal about my balls at all,’ he chuckled, trying to lighten the moment. ‘What I do know is that you four have been hurting in silence for a long time, by the sound of it. Some wounds need protection at first, but there comes a time when they benefit from being uncovered and left open to the air. That’s all part of the healing process, isn’t it, Doc? Time to rip off that gauze. The faster the better in my experience.’
Alex was right. Their muck-up day had remained a deep gouge in her heart, left to fester for too long. But talking was therapeutic—she need to work through the pain. Cait braced herself and shut her eyes tight as she readied herself for more hurtful memories.
‘We’d just had our last assembly for the year. The Year 10 girls were setting up food tables and filling eskies with ice and soft drinks. I know someone brought alcohol. I didn’t know who, but I guessed Amber had sourced it from her mother. Mrs Bailey had no idea how much booze Amber used to steal.
‘The party moved to the swimming hole, just down from the old bridge. The entire month of November had been an absolute stinker and water was the only way to stay cool. The banner on the bridge had been Poppy’s idea. It was either that or bra burning; Poppy insisted she was the next Germaine Greer. I tried to talk her out of the banner, but no, she had to make a statement. Why settle for ordinary when you can be outrageous?’
‘What did she do?’
‘Rather than something like Well done or Congratulations, she wrote in giant letters on the back of an old banner, Get Outta Here Class of ’89. She said it was her way of saying Piss off without getting us into trouble. Amber and Sara’s job was to make sure every student signed the thing before Poppy and I hung it from the old bridge.
‘The heat, the alcohol, the anticipation of freedom fused together and some of the kids started getting really drunk. The temperature that day was in the mid-thirties, but not hot enough for me to strip off and skinny dip like some. I noticed the bridge banner had come loose on one corner, as if it had ripped away. Since most everyone was in the water, it was up to us four girls to fix it. Not until we’d climbed to the top of the bridge and looked down … We saw her …’ Cait squeezed her eyes tight, releasing a river of tears as she saw it again: Willow’s tiny bent body lying on the rocky bank below. ‘Willow was …’
‘Bloody hell, what did you do?’
‘Sara and Amber ran for help, while Poppy and I climbed down the embankment. I knew what to check—I was a doctor’s daughter—airways, breathing, pulse. But the blood … So much blood, and her skin was so cold, so pale. She’d got all dressed up too, put on makeup, even painted her nails. Gypsy had hated makeup. She called it muck and said it only hid the true beauty of a person.’
‘Are you saying Willow jumped?’
‘No!’ Cait flew up from her seated position, all of a sudden too agitated to stay in one place. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.’
‘No worries. You happy to keep talking?’
Chipping away at the dirt with the heel of her boots, she watched the small stones shooting out behind. This was good. As much as talking about what happened hurt, saying these things out loud for the first time in twenty years was a kind of release.
‘The police investigated. They questioned people: Gypsy, my dad, the principal. They talked to all four of us. There was lots of talk, but I never once thought that she …’ The words choked Cait. She gulped, wanting to swallow the lump in her throat and wishing she could wet her mouth. She’d stop for a glass of water, but the need to keep talking won out over her thirst. ‘Willow had been anxious about everyone leaving town and going to university. She never said as much, but when I thought about it afterwards, I could see how she’d felt trapped. The very thing we all loved about the Dandelion House—the isolation, how coming out here helped us disconnect from problems at home, and for me, not having to fit a particular mould—was the very thing that had stirred Willow’s anxiety. She struggled in every way—physically, academically, socially.’
‘So she was a bit slow?’
Cait nodded. ‘Gypsy never acknowledged her disabilities. They didn’t matter. She couldn’t have loved her any more. Knowing what I do now, I’d say as a baby she suffered inutero, some sort of oxygen deprivation, possibly a breech gone wrong. Leg deformities are rare, but they happen. Gypsy simply called her special and saw her as perfect.
All Willow wanted was to be a part of the fun. That blasted banner of Poppy’s.’ Frustration added a hint of anger to Cait’s voice. ‘Amber made this big deal about Willow not being on the school roll because she home-schooled. She said that made her ineligible to sign it like everyone else. Can you believe that?’
Another kick sent a spray of stones in every direction, jerking the dogs out of their exhausted slumber in the sun at the bottom of the steps. Alex leaned forward and grabbed Cait’s hand, yanking her back until she was sitting beside him again.
‘Here, have this.’ He tossed a scrunched hanky in her lap. She regarded it suspiciously, then he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed tight. ‘Risky, but better than nothing.’
‘You reckon?’
‘Come ’ere, you.’
Cait let her body collapse against him, curling up and crying unrestrained tears like she had that day twenty years ago.
There they stayed until the muscles in Caitlin’s legs started cramping. She swiped the sleeve of her jumper over both cheeks and straightened up, unfolding her legs to massage the muscles until she could stand.
‘Listen to me! Where the hell did all that come from?’ Cait somehow managed a sound just short of a real laugh. ‘You came over to offload a koala and I offloaded all that on you.’
‘Offload all you like. I’ve got big shoulders—a little soggy at the moment.’ He pretended to wring the sleeve of his sweatshirt. ‘Seriously, thanks for sharing. I see why coming back here is a bit tough. What I don’t get is why Gypsy left the house to the four of you. With everything you’ve told me, if your snubbing Willow that day was so terrible, as you say, why wasn’t the woman angry with you? Why leave you a house?’
Cait didn’t understand Gypsy’s final wishes herself.
‘We were all too desperate to get out of town after that day. I’d got a place at Sydney Uni, as did my brother, so my parents gave Calingarry Crossing away and joined us in Sydney not long after. Poor Sara was probably hardest hit by Willow’s death and she had no way of leaving like the rest of us.’
‘And the other girl? Poppy?’
‘Oh, Poppy raced everyone out of town. After that she basically shut down. I saw her a bit in Sydney, but we seemed to find reasons to avoid each other.’
‘What did Amber do?’
‘Amber Bailey’s coping mechanism that night was to get drunk and screw half the football team. Got herself pregnant, so her blasted father implicated the entire team, spreading rumours about Will and some ridiculous pack-rape scenario. Six weeks later Mr Bailey whisked Amber away to Sydney.
‘None of us ever spoke, wrote, nothing, not until this thing with the house. Good grief, listen to me! Now I sound like the town busy-body.’
‘And as of tomorrow you’ll be the town doctor.’
‘At least I’ll have something else to think about. Wish I wasn’t feeling so nervous.’
‘Why nervous?’
‘There was this woman I sort of recognised in the waiting room at Doc’s. Turns out she’s Amber’s mother. I hope it’s not all too weird for people who remember me as Dr Wynter’s little girl.’
‘Stop worrying about everyone else’s expectations. You’ll rock, Doc.’
43
Alex had been right. Cait need not have worried. For two days she had nothing more challenging than a stampede of superficial wounds and a flurry of prescription refills inundate her appointment book—curious old-timers who’d known her da
d and come to see the new doctor for themselves and have a chat. A country practice, however, could be every bit as unpredictable as its city counterpart. You never knew what was about to walk in the door. She remembered that whenever a local had asked about her father’s week, he’d reply, Just enough work to keep me out of mischief.
Dr Wynter had been Calingarry Crossing’s greatest treasure. At a time when big hospitals and bigger salaries were luring small-town doctors away, the Calingarry Crossing community knew how lucky they’d been to keep him. Yesterday Caitlin had seen new mum Cindy Brown and baby; nothing too amazing in the life of a small-town doctor, except that Cait’s dad had delivered Cindy Brown and Cindy Brown’s mother before her.
Three generations.
Joseph Wynter had loved his babies.
The memory of her dad reminded her about the files Doc Davis had left in her rooms that first day. She’d go through the contents after dinner tonight to see what, if anything, was important or worth keeping.
*
Alex was standing outside the café chatting with Will when Cait locked up the clinic for the day. She waved and the men shook hands before Alex raced across the street to talk.
‘So how were things today, Dr Wynter?’
‘Just enough to keep me out of mischief,’ she said with a smile, while turning the faux fur collar of her parka up at the neck. ‘Yours?’
‘Quiet so far, but all that’s likely to change come nightfall.’
A loud explosion made Cait jump.
‘See what I mean?’
‘What was that?’
‘Cracker night, and that’s not good.’
‘It’s not? I used to love cracker night. Spinning wheels on the dunny door, chucking tom thumbs at people’s feet, skyrockets, bonfires, sparklers …’ She hadn’t even realised it was cracker night. And although it had been outlawed these days, some Sydney suburbs still woke to burnt-out letterboxes courtesy of bored teenagers with illegally bought bungers. ‘With all these wide open spaces, what’s not to love about cracker night?’
House for All Seasons Page 41
