by Kaye Dobbie
‘I was working, Gran,’ I said, trying not to mind being told off in front of everyone like a five-year-old. ‘I have a living to make.’
‘And will anyone who sees you on television want to employ you if you look like a ragbag?’ she demanded with her usual lack of diplomacy. ‘You didn’t even put on a bra!’
There were so many things I could say to that. I wanted to cross my arms over my chest and had to restrain the urge, knowing that would just make it worse. It wasn’t as if I had anything to hide; I wasn’t voluptuous by any means. The cameraman gave a snort that could have been a laugh, and I was just about to rip into him, when to my surprise Hope came to my rescue.
‘I think Samantha would look lovely whatever she wore.’
‘Pity I can’t say the same about her mother,’ was Gran’s response. ‘Faith should be here.’
Dad shuffled his feet. ‘Lily, behave,’ he murmured.
Prue zeroed in on my father. ‘I’m sorry if I misunderstood, Mr Cantani, but I thought your wife would be here. Can we contact her? Perhaps we can meet her in Golden Gully after we’re finished?’
‘She’s, uh, away at the moment. A break.’ The misery in his face told its own story and my heart sank. Dad had never been one for hiding his feelings.
‘Oh?’ Understandably Prue didn’t see this as a valid excuse. ‘We have a limited schedule so if we could arrange something …?’
Hope stepped in again when it became clear my father wasn’t going to answer. ‘She’s in Queensland, so I doubt you can speak to her at all, Prue. I’ve only just learned about it myself.’
Gran butted in. ‘She didn’t even come around to say goodbye. Not like her at all.’
My father rubbed a hand across his mouth, always a sign of stress. ‘There wasn’t time,’ he said. ‘She had to catch a plane and …’ He shook his head.
There was a room beside me, with a desk and a chair and a photograph of a sunset on the wall. It wasn’t ideal but it would have to do. ‘Dad?’ I reached for his arm, drawing him inside, and kept my voice low. ‘What is going on?’
Frowning, Hope followed.
‘Can we have some privacy?’ I said, meaning her.
‘Some privacy please,’ she said, turning a glare on Prue and the cameraman, as if daring them to join our little huddle. Gran used the opportunity to begin a long rambling conversation about the old days, to which they listened politely, although I could see Prue’s glance flickering to us as if she wished she were a fly on the wall.
‘You know, this isn’t the time or the place,’ Hope whispered. ‘If you want to chat, we can do it after we’ve finished filming.’
‘We’re not performing seals.’ I gave her glare for glare. ‘You didn’t actually ask us if we wanted to do this. I’m not surprised Mum took off. I wish she’d asked me, I would have gone with her.’
‘Sam,’ my father murmured a warning. He knew my temper too well. ‘Leave it. As Hope says, we can talk later. Let’s just get this over with.’
Out in the corridor, Prue spoke in a voice quivering with curiosity. ‘Is there a problem? We need to get on.’
Hope’s smile was back in place. ‘No, no problem. I’ll explain later, Prue. Where were we?’
I wondered what her explanation would be. Not that I cared. She could trash us all she wanted to.
Hope took a few steps out of the room and then stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Joe? Are you coming?’
She was expecting him to trot after her, do her bidding, and I looked at him, wanting him to refuse. To tell her … I don’t know what. But he was smiling. It was the sort of smile he saved for my mother, and I could tell that despite all of Hope’s nonsense he actually admired her. Or maybe it was more than admired.
Hope saw it, too, and she gave a soft laugh. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Joe,’ she said.
And that was it. I was done with them.
I strode to the front door, slamming it behind me. I was so angry, so upset, that when I heard someone call my name I ignored it. I was seeing my father’s face as he watched Hope prancing about for the camera, and now I was wondering something I could hardly believe. Had Joe and Hope once been an item? Was that the reason my mother had left? Could this whole thing be because my father had had an affair with his sister-in-law, and when he’d heard she was going to be telling the entire nation her life story, he’d blurted out the truth?
My steps slowed. Thinking these things hurt me, they really did, so what must my mother have felt? How betrayed had she been?
I had reached the ute when someone cleared their throat behind me, making me jump.
It was Lincoln Nash. He had followed me out and I hadn’t even noticed. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
‘What? My manners?’ I blazed, turning on my booted heel to face him. He probably thought I was a bitch. Not that it mattered what he thought because I was completely and utterly indifferent to him.
‘No. Your dog,’ he said mildly, and handed me the lead.
I looked down. Mitch sat at Lincoln’s bare feet, watching our interaction with interest. I met his doggy eyes and felt immediately so deflated, all the anger whooshed out of me like a punctured balloon. My temper is like that; the flare-ups are spectacular when they happen but they never last.
‘Sorry. I would have come back. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have left you holding the dog.’
His mouth quirked. ‘I don’t think the cat would be terribly impressed if you did. She rules the cottage. Won’t even let the grocery delivery man inside without him giving her a treat first.’
I found myself laughing, and the fact that I could after what had just happened seemed miraculous. This time I tilted my head to look at him properly and he looked back.
‘I didn’t mean to drag out the dirty family laundry in front of everyone. And after you were kind enough to let Hope film in our cottage.’ I waved a hand towards the front of it. ‘Your cottage, I mean.’
He shrugged. ‘Families aren’t always harmonious. Your aunt has been gone a while?’
‘And then she turns up with a camera to record the event,’ I said dryly. ‘My mother was supposed to be here and … she isn’t. Hope wanted a Brady Bunch moment and instead she found herself starring in an episode of Dallas.’
He laughed.
That was encouraging. I might have said more, just to make him laugh again, but I remembered that my family woes were none of his business.
‘I’ll let you get back,’ I said, uncomfortable beneath his steady gaze.
Obediently he stepped away, and the kelpie jumped into the open door of the ute, making himself comfortable on the passenger seat. Not entirely legal, I knew, but I was beyond caring.
‘Buckle up,’ I muttered, and heard Lincoln chuckle. I was a laugh a minute. I slid in beside the dog and shut the door.
The last thing I saw as I drove away was him closing the crow-festooned gate and walking back to the cottage.
It was time now to feel regret that my temper had let me down and I hadn’t handled things as well as I should have. And what did Hope mean about a family discussion later on? What I really wanted was for her to go back to Melbourne and catch the first flight out of here.
My groan earned a concerned look from Mitch.
I didn’t feel like going back to the primary school. My work there was done anyway. I just wanted to go home. My thoughts slid again to Lincoln Nash and I realised with surprise that he’d seemed almost human today, certainly nothing like the man I had encountered in the hardware store.
I’d actually liked him. Not that that meant anything. I’d liked him when I was sixteen, too, so maybe this was just an echo of my schoolgirl crush. Maybe I should get out the old Black Crow album and give it a play? ‘Dark Star’, that was my all-time favourite song. But it was probably worn out from all of those sessions when I was growing up, all that mooning around and dreaming that one day he would see me and just know I was the one for him.
&nbs
p; But he had seen me and I wasn’t. End of story.
With great resolution, I turned my thoughts to the fence near the horse paddock that needed mending. I told myself that by the time I’d heaved about a few heavy lengths of wood and hammered on some wire, I’d be too exhausted to think about Lincoln.
Or why my father and Hope seemed on such good terms. That expression on Hope’s face when my dad walked into the cottage—as if she was going to burst into tears. As if—and try as I might not to let the idea take root in my brain, it was too late.
As if some long-lost love had suddenly reappeared.
HOPE
14 January 2000, Willow Tree Bend
The slamming door was still reverberating in Hope’s head. It was as if the memory of her sixteen-year-old self had been superimposed on Sam. She had been running, running through the gate, panting, sobbing, running for the safety of the cottage. And then the old screen door slamming behind her. Her eyes had been blinded by the brilliant sunlight, and coming into the cool, dark interior of the cottage, she couldn’t see.
Hope?
Her mother! Confused, she wondered what her mother was doing here, when this was one of the days she worked in town.
Hope, what on earth is the matter?
There was a moment of indecision. Tell her, don’t tell her, tell her … And then she’d run straight into Lily’s arms.
With a blink the past was gone.
‘Sam’s upset.’ Joe was wearing a worried frown. ‘She pretends to be tough … strong, but with Faith going off …’
‘She’s a big girl, she can take it,’ his mother-in-law replied, sounding blithe, but her glance at Hope said otherwise. And more than that, it seemed to be laying the blame squarely at Hope’s feet.
Joe sounded exasperated. ‘Come on, Lily, you know she’s really a softy. When she was a little kid she used to cry if she saw me squash the caterpillars in our veggie patch.’ Then, with a sharp look at Ken and his camera he said, ‘You’re not going to film this, are you? We’re having a private discussion, mate.’
Ken gave him a smug look. ‘Sorry, mate, you can’t pick and choose. We’re making entertainment here.’
Hope spoke soothingly. ‘Technically they can, Joe. That was the contract I signed. I did warn you.’
His frown grew fiercer and he shook his head in strong disagreement. ‘Some things are personal, Hope, you should know that. You can’t tell them whatever you want, not if it affects my family.’
Okay, time to poor oil on troubled waters. ‘I’ll talk to Samantha. I promise,’ she said gently, but he only looked slightly mollified. She mustn’t lose control of the situation. When Samantha had stormed out she’d felt as if things were starting to unravel and that couldn’t be allowed to happen.
Prue cleared her throat. ‘I’ve organised some interviews.’ She proceeded to tick them off on her fingers. ‘The owner of the Golden Gully pub, the bakery, and the milk bar. We were also hoping to talk with your sister at Cantani Desserts,’ she said with a look at Joe. ‘Not much point now, and I can’t reschedule, we’re only here for one day, Miss Taylor.’
‘That’s fine. I don’t expect you to.’ Hope turned to Joe. ‘After we’re done in town I’ll go and see Samantha. Will you be there?’ She sounded vulnerable even to her own ears.
He hesitated. ‘I might drop by later. If you’re still around,’ he added sarcastically. That surprised her—Joe had never been sarcastic.
‘Are you still coming to visit me tomorrow?’ Lily butted in, eyes bright.
‘Weren’t you going to be busy?’
‘I’ll cancel my matchstick bingo. We haven’t had a proper talk in a long time, Hope. Not since you left home.’
There was an awkward silence. Was that a threat? Hope tried to read her mother’s mind and, as always, found it impenetrable.
‘I remember,’ she said at last, carefully. ‘I just don’t want to discuss it right now.’
Ken lifted his camera and Joe put his hand over the lens.
‘Hey!’
‘Wait,’ Joe told him sharply. He took Hope’s arm and began to lead her away. She turned to look backwards, where Lily was left alone with Ken, not liking that scenario one bit. Who knew what Lily might say on the spur of the moment? She was a loose cannon and not to be trusted, and that was the reason Hope had never wanted her to appear on film.
They had reached the rear of the cottage and there was nowhere else to go, apart from out into the yard, but Joe seemed to think this was far enough away from the camera. She was so close to him that she could smell his aftershave, and see a couple of the dark whiskers he’d missed, on the line of his jaw. Had he shaved especially for her? She had to admit he was looking good, but then he’d always been a handsome man. The Cantani men were known for it.
Once again tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned her head before Joe could see, staring out through the casement window into the backyard. Various pieces of scrap metal cluttered the space and there was a large shed—a modern improvement since her day.
Okay, she was all right now. The feeling had passed. Everything would be all right and she would get through this unscathed. Nothing else could possibly go wrong.
Why did I agree?
But she knew why. The money. She just hadn’t understood quite how much she would be affected by being back here, and how the memories, the ones she’d kept locked away for so long, and had believed would no longer be an issue, could start to take on a life of their own.
She’d been selfish, yes, she admitted it. The image of Samantha’s face slipped slyly into her mind, followed by Joe, looking so worried, and then her mother’s frail body, shockingly so after ten years’ absence. And had Faith really run away because of her?
With a start, she realised that Joe was speaking to her and she’d missed most of it.
‘You know what Faith’s like. She keeps it all bottled up.’ His stare seemed to suggest that in his opinion Faith wasn’t the only Taylor who liked to keep her own counsel. ‘And now she’s gone off chasing ghosts.’
She was shocked as much by the bleak expression on his face as she was by his words. Joe loved her sister; he was devoted to her. How could Faith be so selfish? But then Faith wasn’t the only one who was being selfish.
‘Joe, please tell me what’s going on.’
‘If I could I would. I don’t know for certain, but when you said she mentioned the Angel in her phone call to you … If you hadn’t agreed to do this bloody program none of this would be happening!’
He was shouting and she was afraid Prue and Ken would hear. She moved closer, putting a hand on his arm, letting him see she understood, that she was on his side.
He took a deep breath and this time his voice was quieter and more measured. ‘I think she’s gone to see someone.’
‘Someone?’
He shook his head.
‘Was this the man who rang her at the shop? What was so desperately important that she had to fly all the way up to Queensland? Wait a minute, she mentioned something else when she called me. An old photograph in a newspaper.’
Joe ran both hands over his face, working to pull himself together. ‘Yeah, there was a photo. We had a good laugh about it. It was the one the Express took in nineteen seventy-four, just before you left for America. “Local girl off to be a Hollywood star”, or something like that. When they heard you were coming home they reprinted it, and next moment it seemed to be everywhere. I suppose you’re a lot more famous now.’
‘So this man who rang might have seen it? Seen Faith?’ her voice sounded husky, tired.
He didn’t answer her directly; an annoying habit. ‘I should have gone with her. I would have, if she’d told me.’
Hope sighed. ‘She made certain you couldn’t by waiting until you’d left the house. She thinks that this is something she has to fix on her own. Joe, you know when Faith sets her mind on a thing there’s no stopping her.’
‘It wa
s the same when she went off that first time. I didn’t want her to go. Even back then I loved her, but I knew I had to let her do what she wanted to. I just hoped that eventually she’d realise she belonged here, with me.’
‘She did realise it. After she came home it was as if her eyes had been opened. You were her hero, Joe.’
But he looked at her as if he didn’t believe her, his face haggard. ‘What am I going to do if she doesn’t come back?’
‘Of course she’ll come back!’ Hope prayed to her mother’s God that she was right. ‘And once Looking Back airs, we’ll laugh about all of this.’
She knew immediately it was the completely wrong thing to say. She supposed she was actually speaking to herself, boosting her own flagging spirits. Maybe all Joe had wanted to hear from her was an apology for bringing this down on their heads, and she’d failed him.
His expression was disgusted. He stepped away, shaking his head, before he turned and walked off. She heard Lily’s voice raised in complaint—‘I don’t want to leave yet!’—fading, and then the front door slammed. Again. She was still standing there when Lincoln Nash found her.
He’d vanished after Samantha left, and hadn’t reappeared when Joe started demanding Ken stop filming. She didn’t blame him for keeping his distance.
‘Coffee break?’ His voice was pleasant, but his eyes seemed to note her distress.
‘Where are Prue and Ken?’ she asked, looking about her.
He nodded towards the lounge. ‘They’re in crisis talks,’ he said, with a smile to show it could be a joke if she wanted it to be.
Hope supposed they were wondering whether or not to call management. Breach of contract? That was all she needed. Should she go and pour some more oil or should she stay here and rebuild her shredded conviction that she was doing the right thing?
‘Coffee would be nice.’ She followed him into the small kitchen.
Apart from the dimensions—and her memory of them was shaky—the space seemed very different. Not that there had been anything wrong with her mother’s kitchen, but there was a charm here now that she certainly didn’t recall being aware of before. The kitchen had been a place to cook in and eat in, and the heat from the stove had made both uncomfortable. As she got older, Hope had preferred her bedroom, somewhere to be private and to dream.
