At Home with the Templetons

by Monica McInerney

  ‘I was going to invite you to come in, but it probably should be the other way around.’

  If he wasn’t real, if she was imagining this, how was he talking, stepping back into the doorway of the Hall, calmly waiting for her to come inside? If she was truly in charge of this, this apparition, he wouldn’t be saying that. He wouldn’t be keeping his distance. He would be smiling at her, throwing his arms around her, kissing her, telling her he had missed her so much, how hard it had been for them both. Of course he understood the guilt she felt, but at last, here she was. Here they both were —

  ‘Gracie?’

  She wasn’t imagining this. It was Tom, waiting for her to answer him. An unsmiling Tom. After years of imagining this moment, of rehearsing every line, every plea, every apology, she couldn’t think of a single word to say to him.

  For a long moment they stood, staring at each other. Then they both spoke at once.

  ‘I thought you were … I always imagined you … but you’re walking. You’re —’

  ‘I’m sorry to surprise you, but Hope told me you were arriving today.’

  He smiled then, the briefest of smiles. ‘You first.’

  She ignored for now his mention of Hope, having to say what she’d started, needing to know now. ‘You’re all right? You’re walking? You’re okay?’

  ‘I’m okay.’ A shutter came down over his face then.

  She couldn’t stop her questions. ‘But Nina said you’d never walk again. She said —’

  ‘It turned out she was wrong.’ Where there had been a wary expression on his face, there was now something different. A blaze of something in his eyes. Anger. At her?

  ‘Tom, I —’ She stopped there. Where did she start? How could she explain everything? How happy she was for him, how shocked, how amazed, how confused. She was now filled with words she wanted to say, but there seemed to be no way to begin. ‘Why …?’ Again, she stopped.

  ‘Why am I here?’ That brief half-smile again, too quick. ‘I wanted to see you.’

  That smile was enough. It would be all right between them. She knew in that instant. He was here, she was here, the two of them, alone, so much to talk about, so many questions. She smiled back, relief flooding through her, the shock of seeing him fading so fast, replaced with something else. Wonder, a kind of happiness. She felt tears come into her eyes and didn’t try to wipe them away. ‘Tom, I can’t tell you how long, how much …’ She laughed, the words suddenly rushing from her. She couldn’t tell him everything she needed to say quickly enough now. ‘I can’t begin to tell you, how it feels to see you, to see you’re all right. You must have been so tired of my —’

  ‘Hello there.’ A voice interrupted her. A female voice.

  Gracie turned. Nina? Nina was here too?

  It wasn’t Nina. It was a young woman, about Gracie’s age, maybe younger. A pretty woman with dark curls, as dark as Tom’s, in a crimson summer dress and blue cardigan. Gracie noticed every detail, as she stood, mid-sentence, watching the woman walk gracefully across the foyer to where she and Tom were still standing in the doorway, walk as if she crossed that tiled floor every day, so confident, getting closer, relaxed, curious, bright-eyed. Gracie could only keep watching as she came up close to Tom, looped her left hand through his arm and smiled again.

  ‘You must be Grace.’

  ‘Gracie.’ She sounded rude; she couldn’t help it. ‘It’s Gracie, not Grace.’

  Another smile, a dimple appearing in the other woman’s cheek. ‘Sorry, Gracie. It’s just it seemed like a pet name and a bit forward of me to call you that when we hadn’t met yet.’

  ‘Who are you?’ She wouldn’t look at Tom. She could already sense what the answer would be and she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, look at him.

  The woman held out her hand, keeping the other linked to Tom. ‘I’m Emily. Tom’s fiancée.’

  The next ten minutes were the hardest of Gracie’s life. She felt as though she was suddenly in a stage play: an awkward, stiffly written play, with fake lines, fake manners, fake exchanges. Inside she was reeling, unable to take any of this in. Being back in the Hall again was difficult enough, but to be greeted by Tom, to be greeted by Tom and his fiancée, was a nightmare. She was dreaming it. She would wake up and she would be there on her own, none of this happening.

  But it was. Tom, with Emily beside him, standing calmly and casually as if something like this happened every day, his voice as controlled as her questions were breathless.

  ‘How did you know I’d be here today?’

  ‘Hope told me you were coming.’

  ‘Hope did? But how did she know where you were?’

  ‘She got in touch with our solicitor in Castlemaine. He’s always known where I was.’

  Was there something in his voice? An accusation? But she had written to that solicitor herself. Not just once, either. Surely he knew that? But he was still talking.

  ‘She explained you were both coming back. Asked if Nina and I wanted to join you, be part of your reunion.’

  ‘She what?’ It came out wrong. Gracie was astonished at Hope’s duplicity, not at the invitation. She knew immediately that Tom had taken it the wrong way. That shutter again, the wariness and something else back in his expression. She wanted to go to him then, take him into the next room, tell him how much she had thought about him, how much she still thought about him, explain everything, open her heart to him. But that was impossible. There was Emily beside him, her hand on his arm, her ownership clearly obvious, the message she was sending even more so. He’s mine now.

  She had to talk to him. ‘Tom, can I, can you and I —?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Gracie. I can’t stay long. I’ve a flight to catch this afternoon, a work trip —’

  ‘You work?’ That came out wrong as well.

  ‘Yes, Gracie, I work.’

  ‘Where? What do you do?’

  Emily answered for him. ‘He’s far too modest to tell you, but he’s one of the best young sports journalists in Australia. He won a Walkley last year.’

  ‘A journalist? But how did you …?’ She stopped there. Where did she start? All the questions she wanted to ask, that she couldn’t ask, not with his fiancée there beside him, not when she was still so completely and utterly bewildered.

  ‘I’m a cricket writer, Gracie,’ he said. ‘I’m about to go on tour with the Test team. But when I got Hope’s letter, I thought I should say hello at least.’

  ‘And I wanted to meet you,’ Emily said brightly. ‘I’ve heard so much about you all. The tours and all of that. It must have been great fun growing up here. Tom’s told me so much about your whole family.’

  Was she really having this conversation? Standing here in the entrance hall, reminiscing, when Tom, her Tom, was there, metres away from her and all she wanted to do was run to him, to cry at the sight of him? She blinked hard once, twice, to stop the tears she could feel appearing.

  Emily was still chattering away, sharing all she knew about Templeton Hall. Gracie turned away from her, looked at Tom, trying to plead with him with her eyes, to stay longer, to let her talk to him. There was a moment, a moment, when she saw something in his eyes, when it was like looking at the old Tom, her Tom. But then he looked away, smiled down at Emily, gently interrupted her chatter and said he was sorry, but they really should get going. He moved then. She saw a limp, a careful movement. Then she saw too, her heart almost stopping, that he was reaching for a walking stick, a half-crutch really, made of dark metal, black and stylish, but unmistakably a walking stick. She saw too that Emily got to it first and handed it to him unself-consciously. Look how close we are, she was saying to Gracie.

  They were leaving. She couldn’t let him leave. Not yet. Not now. She found a bright voice from somewhere, made herself smile at Emily, directed it all at Emily. Happy, smiling Emily. Hateful Emily.

  ‘So you’re engaged? When’s the big day? There must be so much to organise.’ She had never used the words ‘big day’ for a
wedding before in her life. She’d never been to a hen’s party, or been a bridesmaid and yet here she was urging this stranger to confide in her, to be girlfriends with her. She felt sick inside.

  It worked. Emily stopped moving towards the door, but continued to hold Tom’s arm.

  ‘We haven’t quite set the date yet. It’s hard to do it with Tom travelling so much, but we’re keen to start a family, so the sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.’ She gave a happy laugh.

  Gracie did her best to laugh too. ‘And where did you meet?’

  Emily smiled up at Tom. ‘We were match-made really, weren’t we?’

  Tom wasn’t smiling. ‘Emily —’

  ‘Oh, Tom. Don’t be shy. Let me tell Gracie all about it. Women love these sorts of stories, don’t we, Gracie? It was when he was in hospital for all those months, after he got back from Italy.’

  She brought it up as casually as that. Gracie realised she was holding her breath.

  ‘My father used to work at the cricket academy. He used to be a journalist but he’d crossed over to the dark side and was working with the young cricketers, as a mentor, media-training advisor, that kind of thing, and he and Tom were close —’

  ‘Stuart? Stuart Phillips is your father?’

  Tom’s head jerked up.

  ‘You met my father?’ Emily’s voice changed imperceptibly. ‘I hadn’t realised that.’

  ‘No. No, I remember Tom talking about him.’ She wouldn’t look at Tom. She couldn’t.

  Emily’s voice brightened again. ‘I’d heard Dad talk about Tom all the time, how brave he was, all the operations, the different methods they were trying to get him walking again. It was practically experimental, wasn’t it, Tom? You were their guinea pig, really? And of course after the operations there were all those months of physiotherapy and rehab …’

  Gracie didn’t want to hear this from a stranger. She wanted to hear it from Tom. If there had been a miracle – there clearly had been some kind of a miracle – she wanted him to tell her. She wanted to be alone with him, holding his hands as he told her every single thing he’d been through in the past eight years. It wasn’t possible, though. Emily was still talking, talking, talking, smiling up at Tom, smiling at Gracie, her hand holding Tom’s arm so tightly Gracie could see the tension.

  ‘Anyway,’ Emily said, ‘Dad kept going on about him, what a great guy he was, and so eventually I thought I’d better see him for myself, so I came in with Dad one day and it was love at first sight really, Tom, wasn’t it?’

  Tom didn’t say anything. Gracie looked at him. He was looking back at her.

  Another hand-squeeze from Emily. Gracie saw it. ‘Well, love at first sight for me, anyway. It took Tom a few months to catch up.’ She laughed then, a pretty, musical laugh. ‘I’ll stop there. He’s getting embarrassed.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Gosh, look at the time. Tom, we’d better get going if you’re going to make your flight.’

  ‘Where are you going, Tom?’ Gracie had to ask him something, had to prolong this meeting for as long as she could somehow, no matter how hard she was hurting inside.

  ‘To Perth. It’s a match between Australia and England.’

  ‘Who do you think will win?’ A ridiculous question, but she wouldn’t let him leave yet.

  That half-smile again. Her old Tom was in there. He was in there somewhere. In that moment she was sure of it. ‘England doesn’t stand a chance.’

  Gracie’s heart lightened. He was referring to the old family joke. She opened her mouth, was just a moment from mentioning it when she realised how completely inappropriate it would be. She stopped, silent, and felt her face grow red.

  Emily was looking back and forth between the two of them. ‘Well,’ she said brightly and too loudly, ‘it’s been lovely to meet you, Gracie. I hope your visit goes well. Come on, Tom. We should get going.’

  Tom reached into his pocket. ‘I’ve got something for you, Gracie. I should have sent it back years ago, I’m sorry.’ It was a big brass key. A key to the Hall.

  She held out her hand. He held out his. For a second the key was the link between them.

  ‘I thought Nina …’ she stopped there. What could she say? ‘I thought Nina had returned everything to us?’ No, she didn’t want to say that. ‘Thank you.’ She made herself ask the question. ‘How is Nina?’

  ‘Fine. Good.’

  Where is she? Has she forgiven me yet? Would she see me even if you clearly never want to see me again, if you and Emily are too happy together, getting married and having children, to ever want to see me again? ‘Oh. Good.’ A long pause. Too long. ‘Please tell her I was asking after her.’

  A nod.

  ‘Well, bye, Gracie.’ Emily, all smiles.

  ‘Bye, Emily.’

  ‘Goodbye, Gracie.’

  ‘Goodbye, Tom.’

  There was no smiling between them.

  Gracie stood at the door as they walked to the side of the Hall where their car was parked, out of sight. Tom’s limp was now hardly noticeable. She watched and waited until they got in the car, until he started the engine, until the car was on the driveway. She waved when they did, waited until they were completely out of sight, before she went back inside the Hall, shut the front door and burst into tears.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Tom waited until they were on the main road, until they had left Templeton Hall several kilometres behind them, before he turned to his passenger. ‘Thank you.’

  Emily bowed her head, smiled and said, in a deep American accent, ‘ “And the Academy Award for best actress goes to Emily Phillips.” I was good, wasn’t I? Really, really good, if I do say so myself.’

  ‘You were. I just don’t remember agreeing to say we were engaged. Or that I’d won a Walkley Award.’

  Another grin. ‘Sorry about that. You probably will one day. And I just thought fiancée would make it that much more authentic.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised it was love at first sight for you, either. Thanks.’

  ‘From the second I spied you across the crowded hospital ward, my heart skipped a beat and I thought, that’s the man I’m going to marry. Well, I would have if I hadn’t already been married. Or engaged at least, back then.’ She dropped the joking tone and laid her hand on his arm, briefly. ‘Are you okay?’

  He hesitated, then shook his head.

  ‘Harder than you expected?’

  A nod.

  ‘I thought so.’ Her tone became businesslike. ‘Tom, let’s swap places. You can’t talk about this while you’re driving. Let me just ring home first.’ She took out her mobile phone, pressing a number on speed dial. ‘Darling, hi, it’s me. Yes, on our way back. I don’t know yet. We haven’t had a post-mortem. Is Sam okay?’ She winced. ‘You’ve tried that gel on his gums? Tried taking him out in the car, just driving around? That works sometimes. Oh, the poor little bloke. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tom’s going to drop me off, then head straight to the airport. Okay, see you soon. Love you.’

  Tom glanced over as she put the phone away again. ‘Sam’s sick?’

  ‘Just teething again. Can you believe it? Your little godson onto his fourth tooth already? Tom, please, pull over. Let me drive.’

  ‘I’m fine, Emily.’

  ‘You’re not fine. I can see it. I’ve known you a long time, remember. You’re my husband’s oldest friend, remember, my father’s protégé, the brother I never had. Pull over or I’ll lift up the handbrake and ruin your engine.’

  Tom pulled over.

  Emily waited until the car had stopped completely, until Tom had unfastened his seat belt and turned to her before she spoke. ‘I’m going to be blunt with you.’

  ‘There’s a change.’

  ‘I mean it this time. Tom Donovan, if I didn’t have a husband trying to cope with an hysterical child home in Melbourne and you didn’t have a flight to catch, I would make you turn this car around and go straight back there. I know women don’t usually say this about other
women who are allegedly rivals in love, but I liked Gracie, Tom. She was lovely. She was also very upset to see you.’

  Tom didn’t answer.

  Emily’s tone softened. ‘Tom, I was happy to play the game today. I’d do it again if you asked me, but now I’ve met her, now I’ve seen her, seen the way she looked at you,’ she paused then. ‘I don’t understand why you needed to do this.’

  ‘Needed to do what? See her again?’

  ‘Not that. I don’t understand the pretence. The pretence that you had a fiancée.’

  ‘I asked you to be there as my girlfriend, not fiancée.’

  ‘Whatever. Tom, from the very little you said about Gracie, from the little we could ever wring out of you once you got back, I had the idea that she’d abandoned you. That she’d let you down. That she was some kind of, I don’t know, hard-faced cow.’

  ‘I never called her that.’

  ‘Then what was today about? Why did you want me there with you, pretending to be your girlfriend? Who were you protecting, you or her?’

  There was a short silence. When he spoke again, his voice was low. ‘Me. I didn’t know what it would be like to see her.’ Another pause. ‘I didn’t want her pity.’

  ‘Pity? Why would anyone in their right mind pity you? We all think you’re incredible. Look what you’ve done, through sheer bloody-mindedness, determination, months – God, years – of pain, walking again when dozens of doctors said you never would. What is there to pity about that?’

  ‘After the accident, she told my mother she never wanted to see me again.’

  ‘Why? Because she thought you’d never be able to walk again?’

  ‘She told my mother it would be too difficult. That it was better for her, for us both apparently, if she stopped all communication between us.’

  ‘Even though the crash was her fault?’

  ‘It wasn’t her fault.’

  ‘Tom, your strangely misplaced loyalty is a lovely thing to see, but I know the whole story, remember. You’d been out to dinner, you’d all been drinking. Nina told me all about it. But, I don’t know, I think your Gracie might have had a change of heart somewhere down the line. She didn’t look like a person who never wanted to see you again. She looked like a person who wanted to cry she was so happy to see you.’