Willow Tree Bend

by Kaye Dobbie

  ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘of course it’ll work out. Jared says they already love us. We’ll probably be relocating to Sydney. What then? Are you going to hitchhike whenever you want to see me?’

  She leaned in to kiss him, and then hugged him tightly. ‘If you go to Sydney then I will too,’ she reassured him, feeling guilty now.

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ He was smiling again. ‘Come and say goodbye at least? Wish us luck?’

  Faith agreed, and their kiss lingered until she wondered if she could bear to go. Then Ray flopped back onto the bed with a yawn, wondering aloud what the room would be like in the hotel Jared had booked for them in Sydney. He was like an excited child, she thought with a wry smile, but then who could blame him? This was his big chance to show everyone that the Allnights were finally here to stay.

  Outside, it was raining, and the street was shiny and wet in the glow of the lights from the buildings and the passing vehicles. A tram rattled by as she hurried along, head down against the cold, hands jammed into her pockets. She wasn’t aware of her surroundings, too deep in her own thoughts, and it was only when she was approaching her house that she looked up.

  There was a car parked out the front, under the streetlight, and she recognised it.

  Joe.

  Faith slowed and then stopped, not knowing what to do. His image popped into her mind—his smile and his eyes—and the thought of him was a joyful bubble inside her. But as much as she wanted to see him she knew she couldn’t walk in there, not now. Joe knew her too well, and he’d know at once that she was hiding something from him. And once he knew he’d try to get her to tell him, and she couldn’t tell him. He’d want her to come home, and she couldn’t do that either.

  Ray.

  No, she couldn’t see Joe. Not now. It was impossible.

  Faith turned on her heel and had barely reached the corner when she heard the door to her house open. Voices. Joe and Kitty. They were talking, and then Kitty laughed. Faith hesitated, almost revealed herself, but then decided to stay put.

  Joe started up his car and she heard him drive away. The door closed. She waited another beat before she set off back to the house. By now she was aching with weariness and a dark cloud of depression had settled over her. The thought of Sydney and Ray’s big chance, and a new life for them both, should have filled her with excitement, but it just seemed too much to deal with right now.

  She was inside and on her way upstairs to the bedroom when Kitty’s voice stopped her.

  ‘There you are!’

  Kitty was looking up at her from the kitchen doorway. Her cousin’s gaze swept over her, taking in her rumpled hair and bare legs, and she smirked.

  ‘Your Joe was here,’ she said, and turned back into the kitchen, adding, ‘There’s tea if you want some.’

  What Faith wanted was a bath and to fall into bed and let oblivion take her. But she couldn’t walk away from that comment. Your Joe. Slowly, reluctantly, she retreated down the stairs again.

  Kitty was boiling the kettle, and Faith sat, setting her bag carefully on the floor beside her. Her head ached and she rubbed her temples, eyes closed. When she opened them, Kitty was watching her.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be home,’ Faith said automatically, feeling she had to make excuses for her own absence.

  ‘I needed a night off,’ Kitty replied evenly, although her eyes remained observant. ‘I thought you’d be in by now. Joe waited for over two hours. Not that it mattered to me whether you were here or not. He was good company.’

  Faith sat up straighter, making the other woman laugh in scornful amusement.

  ‘Jealous? Come on, Faith, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.’

  ‘I’m not jealous,’ Faith mumbled. ‘Joe is … well, he’s nice.’

  Kitty nodded. ‘He is, isn’t he? Joe is a rock. I get the feeling you could lean on him and he’d never give way.’ She laughed again. ‘I’m sounding very philosophical tonight, aren’t I? Bert says I’m the voice of the common people. He thinks he’s flattering me. He thinks he’s anything but common.’

  Faith wanted to say how much she disliked the man, but Kitty didn’t let her.

  ‘You should go home,’ she said bluntly, and finally turned her back.

  Faith heard her pouring the boiling water from the kettle into the teapot, and then she was rinsing mugs. The silence stretched out until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  ‘I don’t want to go home.’ Her voice was husky with weariness.

  ‘Why? Because of Ray?’ Kitty sneered, as she carried everything over. ‘Do you really think that’s going to last? Once Jared gets him that record deal he’ll be on the rise. He’ll want a girlfriend who’ll make him look good, not a kid from the country. It’s what happens.’

  She said it as if she knew from experience, and perhaps she did. There had been plenty of famous people who came through the Angel.

  ‘Ray isn’t like that,’ she protested, but her voice sounded small.

  Kitty began to pour the tea. It was barely drawn—weak and watery—and Faith looked at it with distaste. ‘You’ve only known him five minutes,’ her cousin said.

  ‘He’s asked me to go and live with him in Sydney. If he gets this deal.’

  That made her stare, Faith thought—she hadn’t been expecting that. And then she felt guilty for using Ray’s offer in this tug of war with her cousin.

  ‘And what? You’ve said yes? What about when he decides he’s over you and dumps you? Don’t expect to get your job back. It won’t happen.’

  ‘Ray loves me,’ she said stubbornly, and she knew he did, right now. But what about in a month or a year? She wanted desperately to trust him and believe in him, but at this point she felt as if things were moving far too quickly for them both.

  Kitty looked at her and sighed. ‘Joe loves you,’ she said. ‘He’s willing to wait until you get this … whatever it is, out of your system. You should go home with him. Ray can be nice enough, but he’s only ever going to do what’s best for Ray.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Faith demanded, her voice rising. ‘Why are you trying to send me away? I don’t understand you!’

  Kitty smiled without a trace of humour. ‘I don’t understand myself. I think I’m trying to save you, Faith. You remind me of me. It’s not safe at the Angel. I can’t always protect you.’ She looked directly at Faith. It was like looking into a mirror. ‘There are things going on and it’s so easy to get drawn into doing things you’d never imagined you’d do.’ Kitty shrugged irritably. ‘I don’t have to spell it out, do I?’

  ‘What about you?’

  Kitty drew pictures on the table with some spilt sugar, running her fingertip through the grains. ‘Too late for me.’ She spoke in a wooden voice. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to go. My life is here, and Jared … He needs me. You have no idea. He probably wouldn’t let me go anyway because I know all the secrets.’

  ‘What secrets?’

  ‘What do you think? Things about Jared’s partners in the business, the men who think they own him. Can’t be too careful. Some people only listen to threats, and Jared knows their darkest secrets and has dates and places to back himself up.’ She grinned. ‘He has a book.’

  Faith’s head was spinning. Kitty knew exactly what was going on at the Angel. What if she told Avery that, then what would happen? Would he offer Kitty a deal in return for information?

  But she already knew Kitty would never betray Jared, and she would never leave him either. It was up to Faith to save her cousin whether she wanted to be saved or not.

  ‘The police … wouldn’t they have found the book when they raided the Angel?’ She remembered seeing Jared’s office, papers scattered everywhere.

  ‘He doesn’t keep it there. He keeps it somewhere safe, with someone he can trust.’

  Faith tried to think—she was tired and her brain was sluggish. ‘You mean Mr Dalzell?’

  Kitty looked furious. ‘Him? I’m the only one Jared trusts! I�
�m sorry I said anything, Faith. Go away and leave me alone.’

  Faith got up and dragged herself to bed.

  SAMANTHA

  16 January 2000

  Lincoln had needed to talk to someone who was interested in marketing his sculptures, and while he went off to have a chat, I took Dad with me to the hospital. Gran was okay, a bit sleepy from the drugs, but her arm was finally in the cast.

  She was pretty dopey so we left her to rest, promising to return later.

  Dad had been feeding Pompom, but I offered to bring the ugly little dog back with me to Willow Tree Bend, just until Gran was home again. Mitch would hate it, but we all had to make sacrifices. I questioned Dad about Mum on the drive home.

  ‘I can’t ring her,’ he said with studied patience, which I recognised as him feeling the opposite. ‘It’s a private number and she hasn’t shared it.’

  ‘So a private house?’

  ‘I’m not sure if it’s a house.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘Sam, I don’t know!’

  I considered telling him about the photo, and what Lincoln and I had found at the library, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. He knew Mum had had a phone call from a man, and that she had travelled a very long way to see him—they were the facts. All I had was speculation.

  ‘Have you changed your mind about reporting her missing? Maybe the Queensland cops could make some discreet inquiries?’

  He gave me a look. ‘I tried interfering years ago, and it didn’t get me anywhere. Don’t you think I’d like to take off after her? Drag her home by her hair?’ He took a breath and unclenched his hands from the steering wheel. ‘She didn’t tell me for a reason, Sam. She has something to deal with, and when it’s over we’ll hear all about it.’

  What more could I say? I promised myself that if her new dessert release came and went, and Hope came and went, and she still wasn’t home, then I was going to go up there myself and find her.

  Once home, Pompom sprawled on the floor in the kitchen and gave a satisfied groan. I tried to get Mitch to join him, but he sat out on the verandah and gave me wistful doggy looks which I read as: How could you?

  ‘I had to, mate. Poor Pompom, come on, he’s not so bad.’

  Mitch didn’t agree.

  Hope rang as I was considering returning to my plans for the Dalzell garden, and we spoke about Gran for a while. I wondered aloud why it had been necessary for me to see a social worker, sitting in his cramped little office, the walls covered in posters about eating right and washing your hands, as he shuffled forms and frowned.

  ‘What did he say? When he’d finished shuffling?’

  ‘Only that sometimes, when an elderly relative has an accident, it may not be possible for the relative to return to their home. That was it, more or less.’

  ‘Ridiculous! Lily will have a thing or two to say about that.’

  Hope sounded tired, or distracted. I could hear the traffic in the background, so maybe she was out to lunch. Then I looked at the clock and realised it was well past that time and I hadn’t thought to eat.

  ‘Has she mentioned going to hell again?’ Hope asked.

  ‘I think she was too sleepy. Maybe she’s forgotten about it.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘She’s had quite a few visitors. Friends and some of the other seniors from the units. I left her to it. I’ll go back tonight.’

  ‘Give her my love, then. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow, all being well. Maybe Faith will have turned up by then.’ But she didn’t sound as if she believed it, and neither did I.

  I’d stuck the photograph from the Express on the fridge, and now when I looked at it, the grainy face of my mother seemed to be staring out at me.

  ‘Do you remember your cousin Kitty?’ I asked. ‘I was wondering if she might know what this is all about. I found out today that she and Mum worked together at the Angel.’

  Hope gave a wry chuckle. ‘You are a clever girl. And strange you should mention Kitty. She’s been on my mind, too. Do you have any idea where she lives these days?’

  ‘I think Mum had an address somewhere. They exchange Christmas cards, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Oh? I thought they were good friends? They used to be, anyway. I remember Faith thought Kitty was it and a bit. I was quite jealous for a time there.’

  ‘Did she?’ I tried to imagine my mother idolising her older cousin and supposed it was possible. ‘Maybe they were friends once, but not recently. In fact, not for years.’

  Hope murmured something in the background, an address, and I realised she was getting into a taxi. ‘Have to go,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Duty calls.’

  Reluctantly I said goodbye and hung up. I had a suspicion that my famous aunt was up to something and wasn’t telling me. She’d been going to see that Jared person at the nursing home, but she hadn’t mentioned it. Well, I told myself, there would be plenty of time to ask her about it tomorrow.

  Pompom thumped his tail on the floor as I passed, completely at home, and completely indifferent to Mitch’s misery.

  In my work room, I spent a moment perusing the plans for Jason’s garden. They were coming along, but I would need to take some measurements if I was to do this job properly. And I was keen to present him and Derek with something that was as close to perfect as possible.

  Taking a chance that he was there, I rang the number. He answered after a couple of rings, and to my relief said he was happy for me to come out to his house. ‘Derek’s here, too,’ he added. ‘He arrived last night. He’s keen to have a chat.’

  I hoped that was a good sign.

  Mitch came with me this time—honestly, I couldn’t keep him away—and we drove in the afternoon heat, through Golden Gully and out the other side. I noticed that Cantani Desserts was open, with the sign out, and there were a couple of cars out the front. Probably tourists or prospective customers. Dad or one of the staff would be in there, giving them the spiel, lying about my mother’s whereabouts.

  How much longer could this go on?

  I was hoping the visit to Jason and Derek would take my mind off my worries, for a little while at least.

  Derek turned out to be younger than Jason, with a narrow, tanned face and brown hair tied back in a ponytail. As soon as I saw him I pegged him as your typical alternative type, but his accent was private school and then some. A rich boy rebelling against family expectations? Maybe.

  Mitch seemed to like him, anyway, which I always thought was a good sign.

  ‘We decided to put in a big week here at the house,’ Jason was saying, with a sideways glance at Derek, as he led the way outside to the garden. ‘We’re aiming to open at Easter.’

  I thought that might be pushing it, but smiled and nodded.

  Derek snorted. ‘She thinks you’re insane,’ he declared. ‘And so do I. We need more time, Jas.’

  Jason frowned. ‘If we can’t manage Easter then we shouldn’t be in the business. It’s perfect timing. Any longer and it’ll be winter and no one will be making the trip up the highway. And we can’t afford to wait until spring.’

  Derek said nothing, even though he still didn’t look convinced.

  ‘We may need to find a tradey to help with the tricky bits,’ Jason carried on smoothly, as if he had won that round. ‘I’m sure Sam can help us find one.’

  ‘We were going to do this on our own and take our time,’ Derek reminded him with barely suppressed annoyance. ‘A project to do together. Not something that must, definitely, no arguments, be completed by Easter!’

  This was starting to turn nasty.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I can come back later if you’re both busy.’

  They looked at me, having completely forgotten I was there, and then Derek’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. ‘No, it’s okay. Don’t mind us. We argue all the time.’

  ‘Not all the time,’ Jason muttered under his breath, ‘just most of the time.’

  Derek ignored him. ‘Jas said you
needed to take some measurements? Want to do that now? I’d be interested in your thoughts. Jason tried to explain it to me, but it didn’t make much sense.’ He shrugged.

  Jason gave me a long-suffering look. ‘I’ll be upstairs,’ he announced, ‘peeling off wallpaper.’

  After he’d gone Derek continued on towards the back of the house. ‘He’s pretending to enjoy all of this, but I know it’s for me, really,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to take some time out. Totally forgot Jason was a control freak and a workaholic.’

  I couldn’t help laughing at his droll tone. ‘Good combination.’

  The garden was wilting in the heat. We walked over to the side where the vegetable garden was to be, or the potager, as Derek called it.

  ‘I saw one in the south of France when I was on holiday once. Loved it. I know it can’t be quite the same, but I thought we could do an Aussie version.’

  ‘Well, the climate is very similar, so you never know. What sort of plants were you thinking of?’

  Derek had obviously given it a lot of thought, and we had a meaningful chat. I took my measurements and then we talked about the walled aspect of the garden, and he explained how he wanted to use some of the stone from the paddocks outside the fence. Evidently, when they bought the house they’d bought the land, too, but at the moment they weren’t planning to do anything other than lease it out for agistment.

  I told him about my own idea for a goldfields garden, in keeping with the house and the area, and he was into that, too. He said he had a book that contained lists of plants that were in existence in the 1850s and 1860s, around the time the house had been built.

  ‘Although it’s been through some changes since then,’ he admitted with a grimace. ‘I think the original place was more or less a wooden hut with a verandah. As the Dalzells climbed the social ladder, they wanted something a tad more up-market.’

  I shaded my eyes. We were standing in the middle of the yard, and I could see the big clump of the rosebush, and whatever it was that was under it. Last time I’d thought a pergola, but now it looked bigger than that, and was an odd shape. Mitch was gallivanting about like a kelpie half his age, probably eager to show me how much better he was than Pompom, who just slept all day.