Return to Roseglen

by Helene Young

  ‘I hope so, hon,’ Felicity replied, holding her daughter close.

  ‘Anything I need to know about the house?’ Georgie asked.

  ‘No, and if something does go wrong, ring Mitch,’ Felicity said.

  ‘If Dan can’t fix it.’

  That brought a smile to Felicity’s face. ‘Of course. Dan was always handy.’

  Colour crept into Georgina’s cheeks as she rolled her eyes. Ella giggled. ‘I’m sure he still is,’ she said, giving her aunt a playful dig in the shoulder. ‘Come on, we need to get going. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

  Half an hour later the apartment was silent again.

  Listening to the others talking about Ivy, Felicity realised everyone had known a different Ivy. Their memories had been coloured by the way they loved her and the way they thought she’d loved them.

  Felicity flopped onto the couch and closed her eyes. Her memories of an older mother with a stern smile and soft hands were different again. And they were just that now – memories to be softened by time and irrevocably changed. Felicity wondered what Ivy must have been like as a young woman working in the WAAAF. How did she cope with writing all those condolence letters to families who’d lost a son fighting for their country in a foreign land?

  They’d never know now. Ivy’s memories had died with her.

  Standing to the right of her sister, looking across the assembly, Georgina felt a wave of unexpected affection wash over her. The chapel was deemed too small so a hire company had laid out 150 white plastic chairs in the open space beside the chapel. There were no empty seats.

  Men wearing suits shiny with age sat stiffly. Women fanned themselves with the order of service as the sun beamed down from a cloudless blue sky. Instead of the usual funereal black, colour reigned supreme. Just as with Charlie’s funeral Ivy had insisted in her instructions that everyone should wear their favourite colour. Standing at the back, groups of younger men in moleskins and neatly pressed shirts held Akubras in their hands.

  As the hymn ‘Oh God Our Help In Ages Past’ faded away, the minister handed over to Felicity for the eulogy. A couple of late runners arrived, the crunch of gravel under their tyres almost drowning out the minister’s words. There were mutterings in the crowd about the Davies always running late and a collective eye roll as one of the lads tripped over a chair leg.

  Felicity cleared her throat and started to read.

  ‘Thank you for coming today to help us remember and celebrate the long and full life of Ivy Anne Dunmore. She was a remarkable woman who I’m proud to call Mum. Her family, her friends, her community and her land were the things that mattered to Mum. She was a fiercely protective mother, a loyal friend and a tireless fundraiser. No one could guilt a person into giving money faster than Ivy Dunmore.’ Georgie heard murmurings of agreement in the crowd.

  As Felicity continued to read, her voice growing stronger, it was easy for Georgie to see the deep abiding affection for Ivy, and for their own community, in the nods and teary smiles. So many familiar faces, so many memories. The deluge of grief was in danger of sweeping Georgina off her feet. She looked across at Ella, who was on the other side of Felicity. Her cheeks were wet, her golden hair swept back in a loose knot at the base of her neck, but she was composed. Georgina made an effort to listen again.

  ‘Mum was passionate about the CWA and supporting women living in isolation. “Everyone deserves a fair go, everyone deserves to win,” she used to say. But that didn’t stop her setting out to win the prize for best scones at the Limestone Hill fete every year. I don’t think she ever quite got over being toppled by Deb Masters after thirty years.’ There was more laughter at that.

  ‘Some of you would remember how she worked tirelessly to ensure sufficient funds were raised to help a family whose house had burned down. Many of you were coopted to help rebuild that house as well. Then there was the time you had to buy countless crocheted toilet-roll covers to help the CWA raise money for a humidicrib for the Royal Flying Doctors.’

  ‘Still got them,’ a voice said from the middle and the laugher rippled out.

  ‘Many of you were there to witness the time she shirtfronted the prime minister. She always maintained that his understanding of regional Australia was confined to the western suburbs of Sydney. After he refused her offer to come riding and see the issues with land clearing, she pointed at his feet and told him, “Best take your shiny boots, denims and fake Akubra back to Sydney, then. You don’t wear work clothes if you’re not prepared to get them dirty.”’

  Felicity let the laughter from that die down before she added, ‘And Mum watched her recording of that brief appearance on national TV any time she needed a laugh.’

  ‘She was a woman with a strong moral compass and a deep belief in God. She will leave a huge space in our lives, but we will carry her with us in our hearts, in the people we’ve become because we’ve had Ivy Dunmore in our lives.’

  Her voice cracked on the last words and Ella slung a shoulder around her mother, resting her head on her shoulder.

  Ken had decided at the last minute not to speak, so the minister finished the final dedication and then it was time to make their way to the graveside. With Dan holding her hand, Georgina walked behind Felicity along the gravel path, up the small rise beside the chapel and through the freshly whitewashed fence marking the cemetery entrance. The grass was newly mown. She had a tight rein on her tears now. She’d come home to make her peace, ask for an explanation from her mother, put the angst to bed. And now Ivy was gone and it was their final moment with her.

  The coffin was lowered into the earth beside Charlie’s grave. Fresh flowers rested in front of her father’s headstone – bright roses and lilies. Georgina felt something crack in her chest as though the cage around her heart had broken open. She knew she was being fanciful, but she couldn’t help but rub the centre of her breastbone.

  She wasn’t prepared for the tearing grief that rocked her as she looked down at the gaping wound in the red earth. It felt so final. Dan’s arm tightened around her and she leaned against him, grateful for his strength and the dark glasses that hid her eyes.

  For someone who didn’t look backwards, Georgina was having trouble digging her way out from under past regrets – her decision to give up her career, her choice not to have children, her lengthy absences from her family when they needed her. Throwing money at her problems hadn’t necessarily fixed them. She regretted not fighting harder for her marriage. But the most bitter regret, the big-ticket item that only a funeral could ram home so poignantly, was that she’d wasted so much of her life trying to make her mother proud.

  It was only now she’d recognised that she was the one who needed to be proud of herself.

  Beside her Ella and a teary Sean stood next to Felicity. Mitch was on her other side, barely a gap between them. Her sister’s fingers, still covered with the earth she’d poured into the grave, were clutched tight in his hand.

  Across the grave, with a subtle space around them, stood Ken and his family. The tension in his jaw was obvious, as were the tears that flooded down his face. Did he genuinely grieve for Ivy? Or was it all an act? She’d seen him in tears of rage before.

  A chorus from a family of magpies gathered volume, the warbles soaring through their full range. It seemed appropriate that the birds would see Ivy off. She’d provided safe haven in her back garden for countless fledglings testing their wings.

  Georgina turned her face to the sun, letting it dry the tears on her cheeks. The minister’s final words were a gentle full stop on the ceremony. Dan slid his hand down her arm and linked their fingers lightly. She managed a trembling smile.

  ‘This is it. The end of the road, as Ivy used to say. And now it’s time for us to turn into a catering department. You up for this?’

  He nodded, recognising her attempt at humour.

  It took five minutes to disentangle themselves and head for the house. Ella with Sean, Paula and Steph in tow had beaten them to
it. She’d always liked Lissie’s two best friends. Ice-filled Eskies were on the front verandah where Sean was stacking beers and soft drinks and Georgina could hear clattering in the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, Ella-Bella, how are you holding up?’

  Her niece turned from the sink, her hands wet. ‘She would have loved today. The gorgeous weather, the birds, so many people. It was an Ivy kind of day.’

  ‘It was,’ Georgina replied.

  ‘Now we just need to be civilised for a few more hours,’ Ella added, with a cautionary frown.

  ‘Speak for yourself. No one expects me to be polite any more than they expected Ivy to mind her ps and qs.’

  ‘You’re not the dragon you think you are, Aunty G. A chip off the old block, yes, but you have way more finesse than Granny. Don’t sell yourself short.’

  ‘Hello, ladies.’ Esmay, Ivy’s closest friend, hovered at the door, her little hat askew. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Aunty Esmay, come in. Have a seat,’ Georgina said, hurrying to help her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you earlier.’

  ‘You’ve been busy. Ivy was so glad you were home.’ She searched Georgina’s face. ‘I know you probably doubt that, but she missed you. You must see the scrapbook she kept. It’s rather thick. She was very proud of you. Of both of you girls.’

  Georgina had to turn away as her eyes filled, her hand still held tight by the tiny old lady.

  Steph smiled sympathetically as she hefted a tray laden with tiny cakes. ‘I’ll start serving, shall I? I can’t wait to try one of these myself.’

  ‘And just you wait for the sausage rolls and meat pies. Aunty G does puff pastry like no one else,’ Ella called, a tad too brightly, to Steph’s retreating back.

  Absurdly the compliment defused the wave of sadness threatening to overrun Georgina. She managed a smile. ‘We’ll all miss her, won’t we, Aunty Esmay.’

  ‘We will. Who’s going to catch me up on the gossip? When it’s all over, you must come around for tea, and bring that man of yours. I think he’s got more handsome with age.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ And surprisingly Georgina realised she meant it. She would happily make the time to go and sit with an old lady and remember an even older lady who had left an indelible mark on them all.

  The dust trail from the final car leaving Ivy’s wake swirled like a wraith in the stillness of dusk. The last rays of sun bathed it in gold and for a fanciful moment Felicity could almost believe Ivy was taking her leave with a final glimpse of Roseglen. She hesitated, not ready to leave the solitude of the verandah yet. As the night rolled in, only the clouds held the line, brilliant white across the darkening sky.

  The sounds from the kitchen were comforting. The clang of cutlery, tinkle of glass and bursts of laughter were muted by the closed door. Sinbad sat at her feet like a solemn little sphinx. He had shadowed her all day, and it seemed like he’d made the decision about his new human.

  She picked him up and tickled him under his chin as his enigmatic gaze rested on her face. ‘You’ll miss her too, little buddy,’ she murmured, rubbing her cheek against the top of his head.

  The door opened behind her and Steph stuck her head out, dark curls escaping from a hair band, her usually immaculate make-up missing. ‘All good? Mitch is gone?’

  ‘Yep, off to check on his cattle.’

  ‘Right.’ She came up beside her, brown eyes serious. ‘Ivy would have been proud. It’s a tough gig reading the eulogy.’

  ‘Thanks. It was easier having the girls with me.’

  ‘I don’t know how I’m going to do Mum’s, not that she’s showing any sides of slowing down,’ Steph said. ‘Like every good Italian Nonna she’s certain her grandchildren won’t survive without her cooking pasta for them.’

  They shared a smile. Steph’s parents had moved from their fruit farm west of Stanthorpe to be closer to Steph and her family in Brisbane. Being a grandparent was a calling not an obligation, apparently. ‘So, the reading of the will is tomorrow,’ Steph said. ‘You didn’t want to put it off for a few more days? We could have some girl time while Paula and I are still here.’

  Felicity frowned. ‘I’m so stressed out about the will and what Ken will say, regardless of what’s in it, that I’d rather get it over with.’ She’d lain awake every night since Ivy died, worrying about the fallout.

  ‘Fuck him, is what I say. I hope Ivy did cut him out. I can’t believe he slapped Ella. And in front of you all.’

  ‘No. I think we were all a little rattled.’

  ‘And trying to press charges against Mitch? What planet is he on? You know he always made my skin crawl the way he looked at me. And Paula was the same. And I hated the way he put you down.’

  ‘I wish Ella hadn’t accused him of pushing Mum, though. We can’t prove it and it’s just made him more difficult to deal with. The cops have been to see Mitch and cautioned him. Lucky Mitch is so laid back.’

  ‘But you rang the cops too, right?’

  Felicity nodded. ‘I actually went and saw Brent, explained what happened. Georgie had made us all write down our version of the altercation and I gave those to Brent as well. He assured me it wouldn’t go any further, but that’s the second time Mitch has pinned Ken up against a wall.’

  ‘My hero.’ Steph pressed her palm to her chest. ‘Damn shame he didn’t flatten him.’

  ‘It would only make it worse. I didn’t tell anyone because it was fraught enough before the funeral, but Ken rang me three days ago demanding we all move out straight after the service.’

  ‘What? He is such a jerk!’

  ‘I told him no, that we’d wait until the will was read and then decide, but it’s only a matter of time. And then I’ll be a single woman without a home.’ And turning fifty in the morning. She was grateful no one had mentioned that.

  ‘No, Lissie, you’re welcome at any number of homes, mine included, and you’ll find your feet again, whatever tomorrow brings. Trust me on this, you have the best years ahead of you. No Todd to drag you down, Ivy safely in heaven with Charlie, and just Ella and Sean to guide. You’re a free woman, my friend. A beautiful, compassionate woman with the world at her feet. Never forget that.’

  ‘Mum? You want dinner?’ Ella flung the door wide. ‘Aunty G’s pulled a lasagne out of the oven big enough to feed a footy team. And I vote we all need a glass of wine. Ivy would be very cross if we just stood around looking glum.’ She turned back and disappeared just as quickly as she’d arrived.

  ‘Come and join us in the kitchen.’ Steph looped her arm through Felicity’s and steered her down the hallway. ‘We’re all in this together and we all know what Ken’s like. I almost hissed at him when I heard him talking cattle prices like he was lord of the fucking manor.’

  ‘I’m glad he came for the wake, but I could have done without him grandstanding on the verandah. He probably thinks he can have another shot at running for election using Roseglen money.’

  ‘Red or white, Mum?’ Ella asked, standing by the kitchen table with the glasses lined up at the ready. Paula, dressed in her trademark jeans and snug-fitting top, was waving a bottle in each hand. Sean was in the corner looking at his phone. Dan already had a cold beer in hand, while Georgina was wielding a cheese grater as though her life depended upon it. Everyone looked weary.

  ‘Red, thanks, hon,’ Felicity replied as Paula waggled the bottles again. ‘Just a small one.’

  ‘A big one! You’ve earned it,’ Ella said. ‘The tough part of the day is over and I say we should play Scrabble in honour of Granny D.’

  Dan groaned. ‘Seriously, Ella? We’re all dead on our feet.’

  ‘Yep, but we won’t go to bed early and I think she’d approve.’

  ‘She wasn’t exactly the life and soul of a party,’ Georgina said, slipping the lasagne back in the oven and tweaking the temperature.

  ‘You’re kidding, right? Granny D loved an occasion, especially if she was the guest of honour. And she will be tonight, or at least her memory will
be.’

  ‘She used to stay in the kitchen when I was growing up,’ Georgina said. ‘And she could be very inappropriate. She once asked a woman if she was pregnant when blind Freddy could see she was simply plump.’

  Dan snorted his beer and then coughed. ‘God, I was there when she did that. The poor lady burst into tears. I remember having to shepherd an indignant Ivy away and then go and make amends.’

  ‘Or the time she told Mitch’s mum she needed to do something about his crossed eye,’ Georgina said.

  ‘Oh God, that was mortifying.’ Felicity groaned. ‘There was nothing wrong with his eye, but Ivy harped on about it for ages.’

  ‘Ivy did mellow, though,’ Paula said, looking up from filling the glasses, a smile deepening the dimple in her cheek. ‘By the time we came along she was quite the social butterfly. And, anyway, at her age she was entitled to call it as she saw it. I checked Mitch out today and reckon she was right about that dodgy eye,’ she said with one of her full belly laughs.

  It was impossible not to laugh with her. Felicity felt a tiny release in her shoulders. Good friends were family. Paula, with her willowy build and disregard for fashion, was a contrast to the impeccably outfitted and curvy Steph. Felicity was somewhere in the middle, both in style and size. That hadn’t changed since they first met in the boarding-house dining room in high school.

  ‘Hey, kiddo. How about you give us a hand?’ Steph plonked cutlery on the table beside Sean, who was still scowling at his phone.

  Steph ruffled his hair and he swerved away. ‘Don’t,’ he muttered, putting his phone down.

  ‘God, it speaks!’ Steph said, going back for another flick of his carefully styled hair.

  He ducked again and used his fingers to repair the damage, glaring at Steph, who now had her hands on her hips.

  ‘Sean, I know you’re probably missing Ivy, but there are other people in the house. Try talking to us.’

  ‘What do you want to talk about?’ he said. ‘I don’t think a funeral’s a reason to be joking around in Ivy’s kitchen.’