Return to Roseglen

by Helene Young

  ‘Can you see my glasses anywhere, Ella?’ she asked.

  Ella hunted around, moving furniture. ‘Here.’ She held them up and Ivy breathed with relief.

  ‘Oh, good. Can you slip them on? I can’t decide if the world is hazy this morning or whether it’s this knock on my silly head.’

  ‘Hmm . . .’ Ella turned them over in her hand. ‘I don’t think you should move your neck, Granny. You don’t really need them.’

  And perhaps she’s right, Ivy thought. I can see clearly now. That was a line from a song Charlie used to love. Pop. Dreadful stuff. They used to argue about it. What would Charlie do now? Ivy couldn’t prove Ken tried to hurt her. It would be deemed an accident. His silly old mother had taken a tumble and was confused.

  ‘He was so cross, but he didn’t mean it.’ She’d spoken before she remembered she wasn’t going to admit anything.

  ‘Who’s that, Granny?’ Ella homed in.

  Oh, dear. ‘Ken. He popped around this morning. I must have dozed off after he went. I remember trying to get up and nothing more. You make sure you raise your children to be polite to their mother.’

  Ella took the change of direction. ‘Ha, who says I’m having children? I think Aunty G has the right idea.’

  ‘Your Aunty G has a whole lot of regrets in that department. Just ask her after a few glasses of wine.’

  Mitch’s car pulled up outside and there was a lot of door banging and clumping of shoes on the stairs. Not one of them stopped to do the right thing. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something, but then the Flying Doctor team filled the room. Mitch hovered in the doorway.

  ‘Mrs Dunmore. Do you remember me? I’m Luke Chalmers and I’ve got Ann with me,’ the young doctor said, squatting beside her and gesturing at the flight nurse. ‘Good to see you again, but we have to stop meeting like this.’ It was that good-looking Asian boy who came out when she’d had her quad bike mishap three years ago. Half-Japanese, if Ivy remembered correctly.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry to keep dragging you out here, doctor.’

  ‘Always a pleasure to see you. So let’s just go through a few things.’

  The room was silent as he worked. He sat back on his heels finally. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to insist on taking you in to hospital, Mrs Dunmore. We can’t be sure with your age that there’s not something lurking ready to do some damage. I’ll fit a collar to you, then we’ll get you onto a stretcher and into the aircraft.’

  ‘You know I want to die here. I told you that last time too.’ Ivy was stricken, panicked even.

  ‘I know,’ he said, touching her shoulder. ‘And I promised you then that you weren’t about to die and I’m making the same promise again now. Mitch has already told me that he’ll bring you home when the time’s ready.’

  She nodded, but tears were finally falling. God was punishing her. She’d been praying for God to take her, but now she wanted to walk through her house, hold her little treasures, her memories, in her hands one last time. There was no certainty that God would gather either of them home after what they’d done.

  Ivy wanted to feel Sinbad lying along her body, warmth seeping into her bones. She wanted one last chance to throw a stick for Lady and Wex and watch them tussle over which one would return it. She wanted to see the sunrise over the range, turning the paddock to gold, the first hint of the day’s warmth touching her face.

  She shouldn’t be crying like this. Ivy Dunmore did stiff upper lip like no one else, but this felt final, as though she was leaving her house for the last time. Despite everything she’d said and everything she thought she wanted, she didn’t want it to end like this. Ella crouched down again and rested her cheek against Ivy.

  ‘Granny, I promise I’ll bring you home again. You don’t have to say goodbye yet.’

  Was this how Charlie felt at the end? Scared and vulnerable, robbed of one last chance to hang onto life?

  ‘Well, that was worth the effort,’ Dan said, as they reached the camping ground at the base of the Mount Mulligan escarpment. Sweat from the hike glistened on his forehead as he looked back at the soaring cliffs daubed in ochre and sandstone. The fringe of trees on the flat-top mountain looked like a cap perched above the craggy face. The open savannah on its lower flanks and the plains below were motionless in the dry heat.

  ‘It’s pretty special, isn’t it,’ Georgina replied. ‘I’ve always loved flying over it. It was my goal to climb it and watch the sunrise, but Old Nev said it was a sacred men’s site so that was enough for Dad. I don’t think he even climbed it.’

  ‘It does have a similar feel to Uluru. As if it’s gazed upon the earth since time began and will be here long after we’ve gone.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve got service again,’ Georgina said as her phone beeped. Dan shook his head.

  ‘Can’t we have twenty-four hours away from the world?’

  She grinned at him as she held the phone to her ear. ‘You’re a dinosaur, you know that? It’s just a message from Lissie. She’ll be worrying we’ve got lost.’

  ‘Hey Georgie, can you call when you get this? Mum’s had a fall. The RFDS is taking her to Cairns. Ella’s with her. I’m flying up and will be in Cairns this afternoon. Nothing you can do for now. Sorry about this.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Georgina turned stricken eyes on Dan. ‘Ivy’s has a fall. She’s on the way to Cairns Base hospital with the RFDS, apparently. I need to ring Lissie.’

  He put the thermos down and came to sit beside her at the tiny picnic table under a tatty awning. She dialled, but the intermittent signal had dropped again.

  ‘Dammit,’ she cursed, hitting redial.

  ‘Come on. Forget the phone. Lissie’ll be busy anyway. We’ll drop the van off and drive down tonight.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that. I can borrow a car.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be driving if you’re worrying over her as well.’

  Georgie placed her hand over his where it rested on the weathered tabletop. ‘Then let’s do that.’ Her eyes filled as the rush of emotion blindsided her.

  He twined his fingers through hers and she lowered her head. The mother she’d struggled to love shouldn’t mean this much, and yet the thought of actually losing her was overwhelming. Her tough love had given Georgie a backbone of steel, driven her to achieve success that went beyond normal ambition. It hadn’t been easy being Ivy’s daughter, but she wouldn’t have become the woman she was today without that fractious, testing relationship. She knew that, even as she resented it. Even while it hurt.

  ‘She’s tough. She’s made it back once before.’ Dan broke into her thoughts as he released her hand.

  Georgina palmed away her tears. ‘Why am I like this? She’s made my life hell for more than sixty years. Why do I care?’

  ‘Because she’s your mother. You’re older now, so you see things differently. Maybe you’ve found the strength to forgive her.’

  Georgina frowned. ‘I’m not sure I have forgiven her.’

  ‘Then why did you come home? If you hated her, you would have stayed away.’

  ‘I came home for Felicity.’ She didn’t want to examine her answer too closely.

  ‘No. You came home because your mother needed you. When I met your family I understood why you had a problem resolving disagreements. Charlie didn’t resolve conflicts, he avoided them. Ivy resolved conflict by knocking heads together and kicking down doors. You adopted Ivy’s method.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Remember that first Christmas you brought me out to Roseglen? You and Ken fought for the entire week. If you said it was hot, he said it was mild. If he said the price of beef was set to rise, you told him the arse was falling out of the industry.’

  ‘To be fair, he was usually wrong.’

  ‘It entertained me until I watched Lissie disappear into her room and Charlie to his shed every time voices were raised,’ he continued. ‘You complained Ivy never backed you up. And she didn’t, not often. But I watched and wondered about her own chil
dhood, because this strong capable woman let her son walk all over her. It made no sense.’

  ‘She always said her father was a hard man, but she adored her brothers.’

  ‘Yeah. I asked Charlie about her brothers once. Good men, he said. Ivy still mourned for them. Charlie understood her prickliness. She’d grown up with tough love, or very little love, and that’s what she dished out to you two.’

  ‘And why was Lissie different?’

  ‘She’d mellowed by then. Besides, Lissie isn’t you. She wants peace and quiet in her world, has no trouble showing her emotions.’

  ‘You’re saying I do?’ She straightened, but he reached for her hand again and held it fast.

  ‘I’m saying you never wear your heart on your sleeve.’

  ‘And you do?’

  ‘No. Doesn’t mean that you don’t feel things very deeply. You do. Maybe too deeply. Maybe you need to forgive yourself.’

  She pulled free and turned to look over the empty campground, the grass sparse and thirsty. Anger vied with hurt. He knew how much Ivy hurt her, that the tough love was brutal some days, not necessarily physically, but in an emotional way. Yes, she’d learned to care in her own fashion, but it was no thanks to Ivy.

  She adored Ella and Sean, and stood by Felicity even when she was so annoying with her refusal to take a hardline stand. Not every cloud could have a silver lining. And Dan. She’d loved Dan with every fibre of her being. And yet she’d walked away without ever telling him the truth. She’d broken her rules, betrayed his trust and lied.

  ‘I knew about your affair, Gina.’ He slid up the seat.

  She went rigid as he continued. The air seemed to thicken around them.

  ‘I think I know why you did it.’

  She willed herself not to turn, not to give in to the stab of fear and yes, pain. On the other side of the camp site old tyres, strung up in trees as swings, turned in the zephyr of parched breeze. A piece of plastic flapped on the roof of the tree house as it waited for school holidays to arrive. It mocked her childless life as Dan continued.

  ‘He offered what I couldn’t. But I could see the lies eating away at you. In-your-face honesty is your trademark. The evasions, the silences, were so out of character. I figured it out.’

  This time she couldn’t help herself. ‘How could you know what happened?’

  His eyes were sombre, more black than grey. ‘Because I followed you to the clinic. Part of me wanted to tell you to keep the baby, that we’d make it work. Part of me wanted to see that cuckoo in the nest gone. I knew how much you wanted a child. I thought by making that choice you’d decided to stay with me. I was wrong.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Georgina covered her face with her hands, embarrassment and shame burning her cheeks. ‘Why didn’t you say something, anything?’

  ‘Because it was your secret, not mine. I understood what drove you. I never doubted you still loved me, that we could make it work still.’

  ‘You could have stopped me.’

  ‘It wasn’t my decision, Gina. It was yours. Yours and his.’

  ‘He never knew. I never told him I was pregnant. When it came to it I realised he’d played me. He wanted to beat you, score one up on you, and he did it through me. I thought if I didn’t tell you, if I walked away, that you’d never know and he wouldn’t win. But . . .’ She turned anguished eyes on him. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt you enough already.’

  ‘We hurt each other. I asked too much of you when you were too young to know what you’d promised. When you left I thought you’d marry in haste, raise a brood of fiery girls, and forget the sad man who didn’t want children.’

  ‘I wanted to . . .’ She shook her head, her eyes on a plover as it stalked across the paddock, its mate pecking around the bin. Words were never going to explain what she was feeling. ‘I thought leaving would mean I could forget what we’d shared. All it did was make me realise what I’d lost. No one else ever came close. And I was too proud to admit I was wrong. I thought I was being punished for lying to you, for cheating. As though the gods had given me one shot at a child and I’d blown it.’ The pain in her chest tightened. How could she have done it to this good man?

  ‘The gods weren’t punishing you. You punished yourself. Maybe still are.’

  The plover took flight, its alarm call plaintive and haunting.

  Georgina forced herself to meet his gaze again. ‘And you think I can forgive myself that easily? That I should forgive myself?’

  ‘It’s ancient history, Gina.’ He pulled her hand closer to him, his face gaunt and sad. ‘Look at us. Who knows how long we’ve both still got. We should make the most of it. I never stopped loving you. I wished you’d had that brood of girls. You would have raised good women. I was wrong to ask it of you and it’s too late to fix it now. But we can fix this. We’re good together.’

  ‘I can’t do this right now. Not with everything happening with Ivy.’ She wanted to believe him, believe that happy endings were possible, but the habits of a lifetime had built strong walls. His grip tightened as she went to pull free.

  ‘She’s in good hands,’ he said. ‘We’ll be on the road in fifteen minutes. Think about it. Maybe it’s time to forgive Ivy. And yourself.’

  He let her go then and was on his feet, headed for the tap to wash their lunch things, before she could reply. A breeze rustled the small leaves of the paperbarks twined together by the almost empty waterhole. From a pile of rocks near the scraggy stand of bloodwoods a curlew called to its mate. A goanna basking in the sun made a scrabbling run for the safety of a tree. Behind her Dan moved around stowing things.

  In a rush of heat, she realised Dan was partially right. She did need to forgive her mother before it was too late, before that spirited old lady faded out to join her ancestors. Georgina didn’t know about forgiving herself right now. One step at a time. Her cheeks blazed scarlet again at the knowledge that Dan knew her secret.

  That horrible destructive day was locked in her memory on an endless loop. She’d known she was pregnant early and the scales had fallen from her eyes, leaving the ugly truth of her lies laid bare. The man she’d foolishly believed could bring happiness to her childless life was a man who’d played her as a pawn in his own game of one-upmanship.

  She hadn’t counted on the ocean-deep sense of loss, of guilt, the crippling sorrow that left her gasping for the child she’d never know. So she’d done the only honourable thing and walked away. She couldn’t tell Dan the truth without hurting him and she couldn’t lie anymore. She had to grieve. Perhaps that was how Ivy felt for the children she’d miscarried.

  ‘We’re good to go,’ he said, blocking out the light as he stood above her.

  She felt like a haggard crone. ‘I’m sorry, Dan, for all that I did to you, to us. I’m sorry.’

  His sad smile rent another tear in her heart. ‘I know you are. I know.’ He held out his hand. This time she took it. ‘I’m sorry for all that I asked of you.’

  He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. She could feel the spring of his chest hairs through his shirt, the familiar play of muscles in his arms.

  Overwhelmed, she burrowed into his shoulder, like she’d done so many times in their marriage, finding solace in his steadfastness. Like an old boot, he used to joke.

  ‘Hey.’ He lifted her chin with his finger. ‘Time to go. Don’t overanalyse.’ The kiss he pressed to her forehead steadied her and she blinked back the tears.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He managed a small smile again. ‘Just think about what I said.’

  The journey back to Roseglen was relatively short. Georgina let her mind drift back to childhood. Was she unhappy to start with? Her earliest memories were of the homestead and Ivy trying to manage Old Mrs D while wrangling two small children. Her happiest times were when Charlie took her with him on his horse.

  ‘We’re in phone range again,’ said Dan, interrupting her memories.

  She dialled El
la this time. ‘Ella, it’s Georgie. How is she?’

  ‘She’s doing okay. We’re at the hospital now.’ Ella sounded relieved. ‘There were a few dramas, but she’s settling down.’

  ‘And Felicity?’

  ‘Mum’s on her way. Her flight lands at two.’

  ‘And Ken?’

  ‘Ah, yes, dear Uncle Ken. He knows. I spoke to him. Where are you?’

  ‘Just about to head down to you.’

  ‘Really? That’s great. You can stay at my place – my friend hasn’t taken over the lease yet. It’s only ten minutes from the hospital. Is Dan sticking around? There’s a couch and a blow-up mattress somewhere in a cupboard.’

  Georgina glanced at Dan, driving one-handed, relaxed. ‘He’s driving me down so there’ll be two of us.’

  ‘Cool. Let me give you the details.’ She rattled off the hospital contacts and Ivy’s bed number. ‘I’ll let Mum know you’re on your way.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll see you in about three hours.’

  Dan cast her a glance as she disconnected. ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘Not sure, exactly. Ella’s an optimist with a capital O. Inherited that from Felicity.’

  ‘Who, in turn, inherited that from Ivy.’

  ‘Ivy’s not an optimist.’

  ‘You think? She remained relentlessly optimistic in the face of drought, flooding, fire and even death. She and her countrywomen friends kept their men from going insane. I can’t imagine standing by watching my property fail. How much worse would that be if your wife thought it was the end of the world as well?’

  ‘I never thought of it like that. She did all the books. She would have known how tough it was.’

  ‘She’s a realistic optimist, the tighten-your-belt-and-get-on-with-it kind, but she’s never lost the joy of living. Look at her the other night playing Scrabble like her life depended on it.’

  ‘But she always has to win.’

  ‘So? You always have to win too.’

  She scowled at him. ‘Have you been saving this up? I feel like I’m in therapy.’