by Helene Young
Ella opened the screen on the back door, scraping her boots on the rough mat, bringing the smell of cut grass with her, her hair a bright halo. Sean was still throwing sticks for Lady, his jeans hanging low on his lean hips, his T-shirt damp with sweat, showing the broadening strength of his lanky body. His hair was, impossibly, in carefully styled order.
‘She here?’ Ella asked.
‘Yes. Time to come in.’
Ella looked at her mother for a long moment. ‘You cool with this? I wish Mitch was here.’ She touched her face where the faint shadow of bruising had faded. Fire swirled in Felicity’s stomach. What sort of bully slapped a young woman, let alone his niece?
‘I’m fine. I just want to get it over with so we can move on, whatever the will says.’ Felicity ignored the reference to Mitch. Part of her wanted to see him standing in the doorway, knowing he had her back. But this neediness didn’t sit comfortably either.
She turned away, her top swirling against her hips, a reminder that she’d dressed with extra care just in case Mitch did appear.
‘You look good, Mum.’ Ella linked arms. ‘Not a day over thirty.’
Felicity shook her head. ‘The last thing I feel like doing is celebrating my birthday. With everything else going on, I didn’t expect anyone to remember it.’
‘Mum!’ Ella pulled her into a hug. ‘We were going to surprise you after the reading of the will, but you looked so stressed last night we thought we’d better say something this morning. When Steph and Paula get back from town, we are so letting our hair down,’ Ella said as Sean joined them.
‘Let’s just get this done,’ Felicity replied, not wanting to think about letting any hair down.
She ushered her children into the room. Kate had taken Ivy’s recliner armchair and held centre stage. Ken had claimed the middle of the three-seater couch, while Georgina angled across the two-seater. Gladiators flanking the Emperor on her throne. Dan leant against the piano. Sinbad stood by Georgina, back arched, tail swishing as he stared at Ken. Felicity couldn’t help but notice the faint scratches on Ken’s cheek. Was she was putting two and two together and coming up with completely the wrong answer?
‘Hi, I’m Ella, Felicity’s daughter. Nice to meet you, Kate. This is my brother, Sean.’ Ella sat down next to her aunt.
‘Lovely to meet you too,’ Kate replied. ‘I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.’
Sean nodded, hitched at his jeans, and sat on the seat beside his uncle, the move forcing Ken to give ground.
That left the other armchair for Felicity and she sank onto it, pressing her knees together against the sudden quaking.
Kate began to read through the preamble. The grandfather clock in the hallway counted the seconds. Outside the magpies warbled as the iron roof creaked.
Finally Kate moved in the chair and glanced around at the room. ‘So to the detail.’ Felicity leaned forwards as did Georgina, but Ken lounged deeper, smug in his superiority.
The lawyer’s voice seemed more strident. ‘Roseglen is left to my daughters Felicity Sharman nee Dunmore and Georgina Dunmore.’ Surf roared in Felicity’s ears and Georgina’s smile was triumphant as she let her head fall back against the couch. Ivy had done it!
‘Bullshit.’ Ken lurched forwards, his eyes glittering. ‘She can’t do that.’
‘She has,’ Kate said, staring him down. Dan moved a step away from the piano, closer to the lawyer.
‘It’s not hers to give away. It was always to be mine. I’ll appeal.’
‘Allow me to continue, Ken.’ The edge to Kate’s voice belied her soft blonde looks. ‘Felicity and Georgina are to manage the property jointly. If they chose to sell the property then it must be offered first to Mitchell Trethowan for a sum not exceeding market valuation.’
Ken half came to his feet. ‘Fucking Trethowan’s up to his neck in this.’
Kate ignored him but a faint thrumming sound from Dan had Ken sitting back down. Sean wiggled further away. Felicity was having trouble concentrating. Could Ivy really have done all this by herself or was Mitch responsible?
‘The entire contents of Roseglen, including all farming equipment, household goods and animals, are to remain with the house unless the decision is made to sell. If that is to happen then the following items are to be distributed as listed.’
Felicity forced herself to stay upright, sitting perfectly still as Kate’s voice turned to white noise. The clarity of her mind took her back to the first time she’d had a patient almost die. The ten minutes it took to save the young woman had been frantic yet Felicity’s mind had felt uncluttered, as though seeing through a freshly polished window. She’d known that the patient was going to make it.
As Kate continued to read the lengthy list of bequests, Felicity glimpsed the future. She sat astride a horse on the ridge above the chapel as the rain poured from the sullen sky. The white ROSEGLEN on the iron roof glowed in the stormy light as she turned up the collar of her coat and pulled the brim of her Akubra low against the deluge. The cemetery was lit by a shaft of sunlight that punched through the billowing clouds. Waiting for her in the old homestead were the thousands of memories, moments, held by the house in its floors and its walls, the furniture and crystal, the carpets and paintings. This land, her heritage would be safe.
She glanced at Georgina. Her satisfied gaze was locked on Ken, who seemed to be smirking now.
Kate turned the page and looked at Ken this time. ‘The joint company that was set up to manage Arran Downs and the livestock on Roseglen is to be wound up and deregistered.’ She glanced up. ‘And I can report that process is almost complete.’
‘That can’t be done without me,’ Ken interjected.
‘It can,’ Kate replied. ‘Any money left after the company is deregistered is left to Kenneth Dunmore. The Cairns Women’s Refuge will receive a bequest of $50 000 to go towards the running costs of their new centre. I believe the building is to be called Dorothy Dunmore House.’
Felicity grabbed at her chair. A women’s refuge named after Aunt Dotty?
‘The fucking bitch can’t do that,’ Ken snarled, uncoiling off the couch in a rush. Dan was on the balls of his feet, but Kate didn’t seem perturbed as she glanced up at Ken. ‘The building has already been funded. It’s too late to stop that, Ken.’
‘It’s not her fucking money. She has no right!’
‘She had every right to spend her money as she saw fit.’
The air was alive with animosity like the crackle and rumble of a wet season thunderstorm.
Kate looked at her papers and cleared her throat. ‘To Ella, Sean, Sarah and Cassandra I leave $10 000 each. I hope that they use it wisely.’
‘She’s broke. I don’t know why she bothered getting their hopes up,’ Ken said, thumping back onto the couch.
Kate ignored him. ‘This will was correctly witnessed and executed.’ She looked at them one at a time as she spoke. ‘I am the executor and my firm has been appointed to provide professional services. Ivy has already negotiated our fee based on a straightforward distribution to the beneficiaries. The monies have been placed in our trust account.’
She lowered the file and Ken jumped in first.
‘That’s all well and good, but Mum’s failed to mention there’s a substantial mortgage over Roseglen.’
‘Since when?’ Felicity and Georgina said in unison.
‘That’s irrelevant. It’s in place and the bank will need its repayments or they’ll repossess. Good luck with that, Lissie.’ He nodded his head at the two women.
‘You didn’t think to mention this to the lawyers when they asked for access to up-to-date figures?’ The rage started at Felicity’s toes. This was what Ivy had meant when she said she’d done something wrong.
‘Mum knew about it. She signed the documents. I was as surprised as you that she didn’t mention it.’ He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, crossed one leg over his knee, back in control.
‘Bullshit.’ Georgina perched
on her seat, fingers splayed on the cushions.
‘Did she really think she could just change the order of things?’ Ken’s face was calm, but his body was tensed. Sean sat up straight as though drawn into his uncle’s force field.
Kate’s voice cracked like a whip. ‘Ken.’ All heads turned towards her. ‘Ivy prepared me for the likelihood that you might choose to appeal. Here’s your copy to peruse.’
‘Might choose to appeal?’ His laugh was gentle as he reached for the document. ‘Of course I’m going to appeal. I haven’t worked this hard so she could leave me a debt-ridden property I never wanted in the first place. This is mine to dispose of.’ He swept his hand around the room, then stopped to smile at Felicity. ‘And Mitch Trethowan is not going to take my birthright away by worming his way into Ivy’s life and then screwing my sister.’
Felicity’s head jerked as though he’d physically slapped her. Ella was on her feet and Felicity grabbed her hand. Ken didn’t stop for breath.
‘I warned you he was only after Roseglen, Lissie. He’s not interested in you. Never has been. After I threw Monica out because she’d been messing around, he picked her up and took her home. Trethowans have always settled for second best.’ The contempt in his face was raw and real. Was Monica the name of Ken’s last girlfriend? Ivy mentioned Mitch had rescued some poor woman from the side of the road and driven her to Cairns.
Furious words bubbled up, but before she could order them, Georgina launched at their brother.
‘Shut up, Ken. This isn’t about Mitch and it most certainly isn’t about Felicity and Mitch. This is Ivy’s will, made when she was of sound mind. You can appeal it, and the only person who’ll lose will be you. I don’t need Ivy’s money. Never have. Felicity doesn’t need the money because she’s also stood on her own two feet whereas you’ve hidden behind your parents all your life. A mortgage, you say? I say show me the documents and I’ll show you a forgery. You’re a thief, a liar and a . . .’ The pause, only a heartbeat in time, was deafening in its silence. ‘An abuser,’ she said, her head thrown back as she eyeballed her brother.
‘Gina.’ Dan moved fast as Ken leapt to his feet, getting between the two of them.
‘How dare you besmirch my name,’ Ken spat at her. ‘Ivy was as mad as Old Mrs D. And don’t think you’ll be able to cancel the mortgage now she’s dead.’
Dan placed his hand palm first against Ken’s chest. ‘Leave it alone, buddy. Sit down.’
‘Fuck off!’ Ken knocked his hand away. ‘Touch me again and I’ll take out an AVO on you.’ He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Paintings rattled on the wall and the crystal glasses lined up in the china cabinet rang.
No one spoke as the car engine fired up and wheels spun on gravel.
‘Well,’ Kate said with a tight smile, ‘that went pretty much the way Ivy expected it would.’
‘It must be a hell of a shock to him. He thought he’d be the executor as well as inheriting the lion’s share and Roseglen,’ Felicity said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. Hope warred with angst. Mitch had been right, but he was also a winner. Despite every fibre of her being wanting to deny Ken’s accusations, she couldn’t help but think there may be an element of truth in it. Had Mitch only shown any interest in her after Ivy shackled them together? And a mortgage? Her stomach had dropped. She had no money to do anything more than survive right now.
Kate closed the folder in her lap. ‘Ivy was most explicit that she didn’t want any family arguments. That’s why she didn’t appoint you three as executors. Using me isn’t a cheap option, but she drove a hard bargain.’ She almost smiled.
‘And the women’s refuge? We knew nothing of that either. Was it a large donation?’ Felicity asked.
Kate nodded. ‘Yes, close to $400 000. Enough to build a four-bedroom house for women and children fleeing abuse. I understand she did that some time last year. She told me she had a tin in her wardrobe she’d been filling with $50 and $100 dollar bills for years. The accommodation will be opened next month.’
Next month? Felicity was stunned. Ivy hadn’t breathed a word of this to anyone.
‘Which explains where her savings went,’ Georgina said with a grimace. ‘So much for Ken’s conspiracy theory. And the building’s being dedicated to her sister-in-law, Dottie, who was lost in the flood.’
‘Yes. She told me about that too,’ Kate said, with a sad nod.
Felicity heard a car drive up to the front of the house. She recognised the engine note and the squeak of the brake.
‘Will he win an appeal?’ Georgina asked.
Kate waggled her hand. ‘I would never categorically say no, but I would think the material Ivy left with me would make it difficult for a judge to overturn her will in favour of Kenneth Dunmore. And Ken is clearly unaware that the mortgage facility has been closed.’
‘Closed? How can that be?’ Felicity’s head was spinning.
‘You’ll have to ask Mitch Trethowan about that. As of a little over a week ago, the property is unencumbered. I have the title deeds in my office. He and Ivy did it in the days before she died.’
‘He gave her the money?’ Felicity was wary now. Why would he bail Ivy out of debt?
Kate shook her head. ‘Ask Mitch, but I can assure you there’s nothing sinister in it. She told me she was changing her will because Kenneth has already received his share of the estate over the last forty years. She didn’t believe he was entitled to anything more.’
‘There’s something else.’ Mitch stopped in the doorway, his hat crushed in his hands. He had a book tucked under his arm, his gaze fixed on Felicity. The only sound was the furtive whisper of the wind through the open windows as all eyes turned on him.
‘Here.’ He held out a leather-bound journal to Georgina, closest to him. ‘Mrs D left this with me because she knew I already knew the truth. My dad was in the rescue party with Charlie when they found the bodies.’
Roseglen
5th January, 1960
I’m writing this now because the burden of guilt is clouding my mind. I have no love to give my daughter, no matter how much I try, and I can only hope this will go some way to easing my conscience. I have no way of knowing who will read it. Ken or Georgina? Their children? A lawyer? Or no one.
I thought as every year passed that the memories would dim, the horror ease, but that hasn’t happened. I pray that God will hear my prayers and forgive us all. Charlie did only what he thought was right. I should have been stronger.
That day is as clear now as it was six years ago. I hope recording the tragedy, exactly as I remember it, will help me to forget it.
It was the 28th January, 1954, and we were still living in the small cottage then, the manager’s house, just Charlie and me. I was kneading dough when I heard a knock on the door. I had worked all my grief and anger into that dough so I knew it would rise like a champion. My sister-in-law, Dorothy, or Dottie as we all called her, was standing on the edge of the back porch. I remember how red her eyes were, how her usually neat hair was dishevelled. She was clutching baby Albert to her chest as though afraid she’d drop him.
‘Ivy, I’m sorry to ask. I know how upset you still are, and after everything . . .’ Dottie faltered, but then kept going, her accent from northern England more pronounced than usual. ‘Can I leave Albert with you for a couple of hours?’ Perspiration gleamed on her forehead and forearms. The wind blowing from the north did nothing to alleviate the oppressive heat.
‘Of course you can,’ I told her, though I was struggling to keep my tone welcoming. I let her in and pulled out a chair. Dottie sank down, dropping the bulging cloth bag from her shoulder onto the seat beside her. Baby Albert, the firstborn Dunmore grandchild, tossed his head against the layers of swaddling. I wanted to hate him.
I handed her a fancy oriental fan on a bamboo stick to wave over them both. Charlie had bought it on our recent trip to Cairns. It was meant to be for my own baby. The silk was printed in delicate mauves and pink
s, the scene a languid woman by a tranquil pond. It had seemed so pretty at the time.
I’d just made a fresh pot of tea. A hot drink always made me feel cooler on a stinker of a day like that. I poured Dottie one too.
‘And some water for himself?’ I asked as Baby Albert screwed up his face and let out a wail. It looked like Dot had reached the end of her tether.
I took the complaining child, so tiny and fragile, and nestled him in the crook of my arm. He snuffled into my chest and I thought my heart would break again, but this was kin and Dottie was a sweet reminder of my own little sister, living far away now in Adelaide, too far at a time like this. Dottie was so petite and optimistic, so different in every way from Ernie, her husband.
The shrapnel wounds weren’t the only scars he’d brought home from war. He now had a temper that snapped at the drop of a hat. Dottie bore the brunt of it. Kenneth had tried to reason with his older boy, but even he believed that a woman should know her place in the world. Dorothy’s spirit wasn’t the only thing taking a battering.
‘Ernie’s not good today,’ Dorothy said. ‘I thought I’d try and talk him into going for a picnic and a swim at the caves. It’s so hot.’
‘Storms this afternoon for sure,’ I replied. There was a telltale brassy sheen in the western sky. ‘Don’t go wandering too far.’ She hadn’t seen the caves when the water rose like a surf coming in. I was conscious this city girl from near Manchester didn’t understand the Australian countryside at all. Dottie had nursed Ernie when he was sent to Cairns hospital after he got a chest infection. He’d been home from the war a good few years by then. The way they told it, love struck like lighting, burning them both. And it still did.
‘Ernie will know to keep an eye out?’ she asked.
‘Of course he will. He’s been playing in those caves all his life, but just you keep a close ear out for rain still.’ I served a plate of biscuits for Dottie to help herself.
‘I haven’t had time to bake since the little one,’ she told me.
‘How’s he feeding? Any better?’ I asked to distract myself.
