Return to Roseglen

by Helene Young

  Paula bumped him from the other side with her hip. ‘You so don’t know your grandmother if you think she’d want us to be sitting here in tears. Don’t you remember Charlie’s wake? It was clear her heart was breaking, but she poured sherry and beer until we’d run out of supplies. “Laugh and remember him,” she kept saying. I thought it was such a wonderful way to say goodbye to someone we all loved.’

  Sean grunted and started laying place settings. Steph gave him a final flick with her finger as she walked away.

  ‘I agree with Ella about the Scrabble,’ Georgina said, dressing the salad. ‘We can draw straws for teams.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Ella. ‘It’ll be you and Dan, me and Sean, Steph and Paula, and Mum can play by herself. I hear she kicked arse last week.’

  ‘Scraped home by a bee’s wing, actually, but a win’s a win,’ Felicity said, feeling another knot in her shoulder release.

  ‘She put Mitch off his game, otherwise he would have won, talented man that he is,’ Georgina added, placing the salad and garlic bread on the table.

  Sean muttered something about Mitch as he banged a knife down on the table.

  Georgina leaned down to him. ‘You, my friend, clearly weren’t smacked enough as a child. Mitch is a damn fine man and, if your mother chooses to have a relationship with him, it’s none of your business. I’d much rather see my sister happy than married to your deadbeat of a father.’ She straightened and smoothed her hands down her pants. ‘And now you’ve pissed off your Aunty G.’

  ‘They’re not even divorced,’ Sean retorted, dumping the final piece of cutlery on the plate. ‘What’s Mum been doing up here when she was supposedly visiting Gran?’

  As Felicity stifled a gasp, Ella grabbed his arm. ‘You believe what Dad told you? He’s lying. Mitch is the most honourable man I know and Mum has done nothing wrong. She deserves a damn medal for putting up with Dad’s bad behaviour.’

  ‘Guys,’ Dan interrupted, just enough fire in his voice to make everyone’s head turn in his direction. Felicity could feel the anxious knot winding in her stomach again. Did her son think so little of her?

  ‘Gina will have a spectacular tantrum if we don’t sit down and eat dinner.’ Dan shook his head at his nephew. ‘Sean, let it go. You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate. I know divorces are hard, two sides to everything, but it’s between your parents, not you. How about you and I team up for Scrabble and Ella and Gina pair up? I reckon we can thrash their sorry arses between us.’

  And in a heartbeat the tension was gone as everyone chimed in with their opinion on who would win. As chairs scraped and people took their places, it was obvious that Ivy’s chair was to be left empty. She’d taken over the seat at the head of the table when Charlie died and it was Ivy who Felicity could picture there now. Unwittingly Sean had laid a place and it seemed right when they were all seated to bow their heads as Felicity started to recite Ivy’s grace.

  ‘Thank you for the world so sweet,

  Thank you for the food we eat.

  Thank you for the birds that sing,

  Thank you God for everything.’

  They’d all joined in by the end of it. Anyone who’d stayed at the Dunmores’ knew the words.

  Once again it was Dan who eased them out of the moment. ‘Ella, you’re closest to the lasagne. Why don’t you serve? Ladies, can I tempt you with some garlic bread?’

  Felicity felt more of a bystander now as she laughed at the corny jokes of her friends and family. Ivy would have loved to be here, in her beloved kitchen, at the crowded table filled with food. Even Sean was being coaxed out of his mood. Felicity’s eyes strayed to the clock on the kitchen wall, an old-fashioned wind-up that notoriously ran slow if it wasn’t wound daily.

  She heard Ivy chiding her for not winding it this morning. ‘First thing, dear, when you’re boiling the kettle for that cuppa. You know your father hates to be late.’

  Above the chatter of the table she thought she heard a gleeful laugh. Sinbad, sat by the door, had his ears pricked. Maybe he’d heard her too.

  Felicity woke to find Sinbad snuggled against her legs, his contented purr sounding like a motor running at idle. ‘Hey, you sneaky thing. How’d you do that?’ she asked, looking at the closed bedroom door. Had he followed her in last night, exhausted as she’d been? He stretched and she stroked his creamy belly. ‘You’re not going to like living in an apartment, little man, if today goes as I fear and Ken ends up inheriting the lot. Maybe Mitch will have you until I find somewhere to live.’

  His eyes sprang open, brilliant blue, and she smiled sadly. She was as bad as Ivy, imagining the cat was part human. She was glad it was dark outside, not ready to face the day yet. If the funeral was hard, then today was going to be horrendous. But if Mitch was right and Ivy had rewritten her will? The thought of leaving Roseglen made her feel physically ill. And now, after all the acrimonious accusations being tossed around, there was no way Ken would allow her to stay or even visit.

  The tiny spark of hope that had bloomed in her heart that day in the hospital had been doused with a cold shower of reality. Even if Ivy left Roseglen to the three of them, the property would have to be sold. The three siblings would never find a way to manage the property jointly. And that was a tragedy. This week had reaffirmed her deep connection with Roseglen and all that it meant to the wider community. She would love to have been a part of that again, to join the CWA, maybe even find work in Limestone Hill rather than Mareeba, but it seemed beyond her reach now.

  And then there was Mitch. It was too good to be true. Sean’s accusations last night had stung even as she recognised the element of truth. She needed to grieve for the slow death of her marriage, find her feet again as Felicity Dunmore, not as someone else’s other half.

  She could joke all she liked that divorce was just another form of redundancy – replaced by a newer model with all its bits in perky working order – but Todd’s betrayal still hurt. Her trust had been blasted into a million tiny fragments. Putting it together again would take time.

  She was grateful that Ivy and Mitch had been such great friends. It wasn’t hard to see the affection between the two of them, more mother and son. But for now Mitch Trethowan was a neighbour and friend and that was all.

  Besides, what if their first grand moment of passion went horribly wrong? She wasn’t seventeen anymore. The changes in a woman’s body with menopause could be profound. She’d chuckled over an article she’d read in the staffroom about putting some zing back in a menopausal sex life. She did know that the sporadic times she’d made love with Todd in the year before the divorce hadn’t always been comfortable.

  Made love, indeed. He was getting his rocks off while you closed your eyes and tried to work out how to reduce the mortgage. It had been a very long time since she’d gone all fluttery with Todd. Unlike the unbalanced, earth-lurching moments she’d had with Mitch recently. And they hadn’t even shared anything more than an affectionate kiss or two.

  Stop dreaming, she chided herself, and raised her arms above her head. With the creep of dawn she could make out the landscape paintings on the wall. Ivy may still have referred to this room with its west-facing French doors which led to the side verandah as Felicity’s room but, apart from the wardrobe and its matching dressing table, nothing remained from Felicity’s childhood. The posters of David Essex and Johnny Farnham had been torn down. The squeaky single bed with its carved ends had been moved into Ken’s room to make a twin room.

  It had been replaced by a queen size with more than enough room for two. The pink walls were now a soothing pale green. Floor-length curtains draped the doors and the windows. Pelmets hid the railings. A freestanding brass lamp hovered over the armchair in the corner. An adult room now, stamped with Ivy’s style.

  Fifty years old today and still she hated confrontation. At least she’d stood her ground over the past week. And damn if that didn’t feel good.

  She slid out of bed. No one had mentioned her birthday since Se
an and Ella’s little spat in Cairns. She certainly wasn’t raising it today with the stress of the will ahead of them. No time to fret about being middle aged. Self-indulgent crap, Georgina would call it. She, of course, had sailed through her sixtieth without a second glance.

  Felicity rifled through her small collection of clothes and pulled out the suit she’d brought with her from Brisbane. No. She’d spend the morning tugging it down over hips that were more rounded than when she’d bought it. She let it swing back into place and selected a black knit skirt. It could hide a multitude of sins, but it went with a bright swing top that showed off far too much cleavage. Not really appropriate for the reading of a will?

  Blowing a stray hair out of her face, she pulled out another top. Red, black and white. That could work with the skirt. She slipped it on. More subdued but she looked matronly. She pinched the roll of fat on her back, just underneath her armpit. Maybe not, that treacherous little voice piped up. What if Mitch showed up later?

  She pulled off the top and stowed it on the hangar. Bright and busty it would be then. It suddenly seemed important to meet this half-century milestone with her head held high, even if it was all a game of bluff. One day someone would work out she had no idea about anything.

  As she headed to the bathroom she could hear someone in the kitchen. It was too early for Ella and Sean to be over from the bunkhouse where they were sleeping. Maybe Georgina was up making a cup of tea. Paula and Steph weren’t early risers, either.

  Fifteen minutes later, with still damp hair curling on her neck, she walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Surprise!’ Six smiling faces greeted her, with a banner that read ‘Happy 50th Birthday’ hung across the kitchen wall behind the stove, and a pile of brightly wrapped presents on the benchtop.

  ‘Happy birthday, Mum,’ Ella said, getting in first to hug her tight. Felicity couldn’t stop the tears as the others crowded around. Sean was the last one to step forwards and she relaxed as he hugged her fiercely.

  ‘Happy birthday, Mum. Sorry I’ve been such a shit,’ he muttered.

  ‘You’ve had a lot of your plate, my love,’ she said, hugging him back. ‘But we’ll work it out. Love you, Sean.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  ‘Aunty G’s even made fresh croissants for you,’ Ella said. ‘But first you have to open your pressies! This one first. It’s from Granny D.’ She handed over a large but light box.

  ‘Mum got me a present?’

  ‘Yep. She had me organise it for her a couple of weeks ago. She was so excited about having a party up here again.’

  ‘What?’ Felicity felt like she’d been left behind.

  ‘The surprise party that Ella’s been organising and reorganising since you and Dad, you know . . .’ Sean petered out.

  ‘She had us all sworn to secrecy,’ Paula added. ‘Then you threw a spanner in the works by moving up here and she had to move the venue from Brisbane.’

  ‘I think Granny D was a teensy bit disappointed she wasn’t having a trip to Brisbane after all,’ Ella said. ‘She’ll be cross as anything she’s missing out,’ she added, looking to the ceiling as if Ivy could hear them.

  Felicity smiled, her cheeks wet. ‘Mum would have loved this.’ She untied the gold bow and picked at the sticky tape with an inkling of what was inside. As she lifted the lid, Georgina laughed.

  ‘You’ll never be a city slicker again, Lissie.’

  The tan felt hat with its pinched low crown and wide brim was a perfect fit as she pulled it down over her forehead. Felicity’s fingers found the tiny Akubra logo on the leather band as she smiled. ‘Guess that moth-eaten one hanging in the hallway can officially be retired now.’

  ‘All you need is the stockwhip, an oilskin and a horse,’ Paula laughed. ‘You always looked like a country girl, even in a nurse’s uniform.’

  ‘This one next.’ Ella thrust a long thin package into her hands. ‘From me and Sean.’

  As the wrapping fell away, Felicity curled her fingers around the plaited leather of the stockwhip. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, reaching over to kiss her children.

  ‘And handmade especially for you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep,’ Ella beamed. ‘They did a rush job for me.’

  Georgina stepped forwards. ‘And this is from us.’

  Felicity squeezed it and laughed. ‘An oilskin, I presume?’

  ‘Couldn’t get you a horse in time. And apparently Ken sold off the ones Mum sent over from here so I thought I’d let you choose your own horse.’

  Felicity slid the brown coat over her clothes and did a twirl. She wasn’t going to ruin the others’ obvious delight by pointing out that Roseglen may not be theirs for much longer and she would be a city girl again.

  ‘And lastly, here’s ours,’ Paula said, linking arms with Steph. ‘We can’t have you smelling like cows.’

  Felicity shook her head as she unwrapped the box. ‘Dior, my favourite.’

  ‘Of course,’ Steph said. ‘And enough body products to keep your skin supple and smooth.’ She shot a glance at Sean. ‘Just in case, you know.’

  ‘Thank you so much for this,’ Felicity said, her throat thickening with tears. ‘It’s all so unexpected and with everything that’s happened . . .’

  ‘And that’s precisely why it’s important to celebrate your fiftieth,’ Georgina said, turning aside to pick up a platter. ‘Fruit to start with, drizzled with honey, and there’s homemade yoghurt. Then we have scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, followed by croissants with some of Ivy’s rosella jam.’

  As they settled around the table, Felicity knew she needed to eat, despite her tight stomach. The conversation was boisterous and swirled around her. She didn’t doubt Ivy was there too.

  After they’d all eaten she was shooed out of the kitchen, banned from helping with the clean-up. Her mobile beeped.

  Happy birthday, Lissie. I hope the morning’s not as bad as you fear. See you later.

  Mitch had remembered, despite being flat out with the muster.

  His words brought a fleeting smile to her face as Steph walked out to join her on the verandah.

  ‘Hey, Lissie, Paula and I are heading in to mooch around Limestone Hill. Best we leave you and the family to deal with the solicitor. We’ll be back for lunch. Call if you think of anything you need us to get while we’re there.’

  ‘Okay, Steph. Enjoy. And thank you for being here.’

  ‘Hey, friends are for the hard times as well as the fun times,’ Paula said, joining them on the verandah. ‘Take no shit from Ken and have faith in Ivy doing the right thing.’

  Felicity waved the women off in Ella’s car and continued pacing.

  By the time the lawyer arrived at nine o’clock, she was a bundle of nerves. The young woman, with shiny blonde hair and a fitted grey suit, strode up the stairs.

  ‘Felicity, lovely to meet you. Kate, Kate Riley, Ivy’s solicitor. I’m sorry for your loss. It’s hard to believe that she’s gone. What a character she was. You must miss her very much.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Felicity swallowed against the swell of tears as the younger woman stopped beside her.

  ‘She told me when she rang to book the appointment that she was sharp as a tack.’ Kate’s gaze was penetrating and direct. ‘And she was. She’s been very prescriptive with her will and it’s my job to see that her wishes are followed.’ Her hand rested briefly on Felicity’s shoulder. ‘And I will.’ She turned and breezed through the door, heading for the kitchen. Another dust trail was coming up the drive, sunlight glinting off shiny paintwork.

  ‘Let the games begin,’ Felicity murmured, following Kate inside. There was no need to greet Ken. In all likelihood he was about to be the new owner and she couldn’t bear to deal with his smugness any sooner than she had to.

  In the kitchen she found a bemused Dan leaning on the sink watching Georgina and Kate embracing.

  ‘You know each other?’ Felicity asked.

  Georgina turned around
still smiling. ‘Remember James Riley? Same year as me at school? This is his little girl. I knew she was in Cairns, but I had no idea she knew Ivy.’

  ‘I think that’s partly why your mum chose me, to be honest,’ Kate said. ‘I was from one of the other founding families out here.’

  ‘Oh, she would have loved that. Although weren’t the Denzells put out?’

  ‘I understand they recommended she make the changes with someone else as they were involved with the other matters?’

  ‘Other matters?’

  Before Kate could reply Ken spoke from the door. ‘I told you Mum had done a shady deal with Trethowan.’ He shot a triumphant look at Felicity. ‘I have tried to warn you that there’s nothing a Trethowan won’t do to get their hands on Roseglen. His old man was the same.’

  Dan stepped in before Felicity or Georgina could pounce on their brother. He seemed to fill the centre of the room.

  ‘Let’s not start out on the wrong foot, Ken. There’s no place for accusations at a time like this.’

  Ken raised his hands, palm up, a calculated look on his face, his voice smooth, with an edge of hurt. ‘My sisters have accused me of theft, my niece has accused me of murder and that thug, Mitch Trethowan, has assaulted me. I have the right to defend myself, my reputation.’

  Dan stood taller. ‘I think we should all sit in the lounge room. There’s more space. After you, Ken.’ He gestured to the door and Felicity was grateful for his commanding presence. It was easy to mistake his laid-back humour for weakness. Captain Dan wasn’t about to brook any argument.

  Ken went to speak again, but Kate swept past him with a brilliant smile. ‘Dad sends his regards, Ken. Give him a call when you’re in Brisbane next.’ Her heels clacked on the floorboards like someone clapping hands and the tension in the air eased to a crackle.

  With a malicious scowl at his sisters, Ken followed her. Dan’s ironic smile wasn’t lost on Felicity as he walked out behind Georgina. One step forwards and two steps back.