Getting There

by Lyn Denison

  She sat down again. So what to do? Her mother was ill. Surely her father wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious. In fact, Kat couldn’t imagine her father making a decision without her mother’s direction. And then she felt ashamed of herself. No matter how she perceived her father he was just that. Her father. He’d raised her, gone to work, held a responsible job at the bank, come home and cared for her mother, who was at best a difficult person. She knew she had to make the call.

  Still she hesitated. Should she ring Beth instead? Surely her father would have spoken to Beth. And surely Beth would have rung Kat if it was that serious. The whole situation, to quote a well-known sci-fi character, was illogical.

  The bottom line was that her mother was ill, she reminded herself. She reached for the phone and dialed the number she hadn’t known she remembered.

  Her father’s voice sounded the same as it had all her life. But older. She realized he must be in his mid-seventies now. And suddenly she wanted to call back the days of innocence when the child in her had accepted her life as her life. No regrets. No expectations.

  “It’s Kat,” she said, her voice sounding thick.

  “Katrin,” her father said, and Kat was sure his voice broke.

  Silence echoed over the line.

  “Em’s mother told me you wanted to talk to me, that Mum wasn’t well.”

  “I was just going to try you again. I rang this morning and got an answering machine, but it was a different number to the one Mary Martin gave me today.”

  “I’ve moved house,” Kat explained, wondering what Shael would make of the call if her father had left a message. “What’s wrong with Mum?”

  “She’s in Hospital, the Royal Brisbane. I just came home to change and get a bite to eat. I was about to go back.”

  “What’s… when did she go to Hospital?”

  “Yesterday. They think it’s her heart. They’re doing tests.”

  “How serious is it?” Kat asked as her father coughed, obviously upset.

  “I don’t know. That’s the trouble. Your mother tells me one thing and the doctors another. Your mother’s not the best of patients.”

  “No. I suppose she isn’t.” Kat had no difficulty believing that.

  “I just don’t know what to think.” Her father sounded desperate. “But your mother’s, well, she’s worried, that she won’t make it. She looks so pale. I’m worried sick myself.”

  “You’re off to the Hospital now?”

  “Yes. For the meal time. I try to coax her to eat, but she isn’t fussed on the hospital food. She won’t even give it a try so I’m taking something with me in the hope she’ll eat that.”

  “Have you rung Beth?”

  “Yes. She’s away south on business. But she’s got a flight home tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll come up to the Hospital. I’ll meet you there.”

  Her father sounded relieved as he gave her ward and room numbers and directions once she got to the Hospital.

  Kat was a mass of jumbled, jousting nerves as she walked along the colorless hospital corridor, her shoes making a peculiar squeak on the polished floor. Conflicting emotions fought for a hold inside her, coupled with an unwelcome surprise at the depth of her concern for her mother. Throughout Kat’s life they’d never been on the same wavelength, but her mother was her mother and Kat loved her, even though there was never any indication that her love was reciprocated. Not the way Em’s mother showed overwhelming love for her family.

  As the thought skittered about in her head, Kat knew it wasn’t totally fair of her to compare the two women. Their personalities, their entire beings, were poles apart in every respect. Physically, Em’s mother was plump and cuddly, always smiling, while Kat’s mother was a small, gaunt woman with sharp features. And Kat couldn’t remember her mother laughing out loud. Yet all this wasn’t her mother’s fault. She couldn’t change her basic persona anymore than Kat could.

  Kat hesitated as she came to the hospital ward. She walked up to the nurse’s station, gave the young nurse her mother’s name and explained she was the patient’s daughter.

  “Oh, yes. Ann Oldfield. Room five. You’ve just missed your father. He won’t be long though. He’s just popped down to the canteen. Your mother fancied something sweet.”

  Kat felt another twinge of guilt. She knew her mother was fond of chocolate. She should have stopped and bought some for her, but she’d been so wrapped up in her ambivalent concern for her mother she hadn’t given such things a thought. But if her mother was allowed chocolate, surely— “How is she?” Kat managed to ask, but she could glean nothing from the nurse’s face.

  “As well as can be expected. Heavily medicated, I’m afraid.” The nurse smiled encouragingly. “But go on in. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.”

  Somehow Kat seriously doubted that. But her father had made the effort to contact Kat after all.

  “She may drift in and out of sleep,” the nurse continued, “but she’ll know you’re there. Room five. Off to the left.”

  Kat headed down another hallway, hesitating in the doorway of Room five.

  It was a single room. Her mother lay in a narrow bed, propped up on pillows and hooked up by wires and cables to various devices that rippled and blinked with data. Kat silently approached the bed, trying not to focus on the readouts on the machines.

  Her mother looked impossibly smaller and older, her hands lying lifelessly on the neatly folded pale blue hospital bedspread. Her hair, neatly combed by a nurse or her father, was completely grey now, and her face was lined and careworn.

  Kat’s emotions went into confused overdrive again and inexplicable tears welled in her eyes. She swallowed painfully, gradually getting herself under control again. Her mother’s eyes were closed, and she seemed to be sleeping so Kat decided she’d just stand and wait for her father to return. He shouldn’t be long. She took a soft step closer, and her mother’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “Mum?” Kat said softly.

  Her mother’s head moved from side to side.

  Kat bit her lip. Did that mean her mother didn’t want her there? “Mum. It’s Kat. Katrin,” she added. She chanced a quick glance at the machines, but none of them seemed to be changing tone to an alarm.

  “Katrin?” repeated a weak voice. “Your father rang then?”

  “Yes. How are you?”

  Her mother’s lips trembled, and one hand fluttered on the bedspread. “I’m finished, Katrin.”

  “Don’t say that, Mum,” Kat implored gently.

  “I know how I feel, and I know I’m finished.”

  “Dad says the doctors are doing lots of tests. I’m sure—”

  “The doctors are all children, just out of school,” her mother said imperiously, her voice stronger. “What do they know?” Her mother’s eyes closed again, and Kat thought she’d drifted back to sleep. She sank down onto the chair close to the bed where her father had obviously been sitting.

  “Katrin?”

  Kat sat forward and found herself taking her mother’s hand in hers.

  Her mother looked down at their hands, and her fingers tightened around Kat’s. “I told your father to ring you, to tell you I wanted to see you.”

  “Mum, you should rest.”

  Ann Oldfield shook her head slightly again, a frown on her face. “My time’s come, and I suppose I’ve had a good life, easier than some, and there are things I need to tell you.” She coughed and indicated she wanted water.

  Kat poured some from the pitcher on a freestanding tray, lifted the tumbler and held the straw to her mother’s lips. She drank sparingly, then her head rested back on the pillows.

  “I need to tell you the truth.”

  “Mum, it’s all right. We don’t need to talk now. You aren’t well enough. It will tire you out.” Kat silently wished her father would hurry back or that the young nurse would come in to check on her mother.

  “That’s why I have to tell you now, Katrin. Don’t yo
u see?”

  “It’s all in the past, Mum. Let’s leave it there. We both said things, well, I know I said things I regret.”

  “Yes. I have regrets too. And I need to tell you something you should know. I’m tired of secrets.”

  “Secrets?” Kat frowned, wondering if the medication was responsible for her mother’s words and thoughts. “Look, Mum, Dad will be back soon, and you shouldn’t be upsetting yourself.”

  “I blame myself,” her mother said, “for your abhorrent behavior.”

  Kat stiffened. So there appeared to be no change in her mother’s opinion. For a moment Kat had thought—

  “Are you still living with that woman?” her mother asked. “That Dunleavy woman.”

  “No.” So her mother hadn’t heard about Ruth’s death. And Kat had never told her parents about Shael and Meggie. The fiasco with Ruth had destroyed any need or desire to share information with her parents. “I’m on my own now.”

  “That’s a blessing then.”

  “But I’m still a lesbian, Mum. That won’t change,” Kat said softly.

  “It’s such an awful sounding word.” Ann Oldfield moved her head again. “But no matter. It’s all my fault. I take the blame.” She drew a rasping breath.

  “Mum, it’s no one’s fault. It’s just how and who I am. No one turned me into a lesbian. I just am.”

  “But I’m to blame.” Her mother’s hand fluttered to her mouth then fell back on the bed. “I’m so tired.”

  “You have to rest, Mum. We’ll talk later.”

  “No. Please. Katrin, listen.” Ann Oldfield closed her eyes for long moments as Kat sat bemused.

  What could her mother tell her that was so important? Theirs was a run-of-the-mill family, a boring family some might say. And apart from Kat’s lesbian relationship with the much older Ruth there was nothing out of the ordinary. Her father had worked in a bank. Kat swallowed. Had he done something illegal? No. Kat couldn’t see her father in that role. As far as Kat knew, her mother still worked part time for the company she’d been with for forty years or so. Beth, her sister, was a businesswoman, successful and well-respected. Kat could think of nothing.

  “I thought I was doing the right thing. I did it for the best. For Beth and for you.” Her mother stopped to catch her breath again. “Your father agreed with me. We thought it would give you and Beth, but especially you, a better chance in life.”

  “I understand, Mum.” Kat awkwardly patted her mother’s hand. “Why not have a rest now. I’m sure the doctors don’t want you tiring yourself. And Dad will be back soon.”

  “I need to say this before he comes back. He didn’t want— No matter. It has to be done before I go. You see, Beth was still at school. She had no real interest in the boy and neither of them were in any position to support themselves. We didn’t want you to go to a stranger. John didn’t think it was right. He said you were family. So we kept you.” The last came out with a fit of coughing.

  “Mum?” Kat sat looking at the woman in the hospital bed. “What are you trying to say? I don’t understand?”

  Her mother dabbed at her mouth with a tissue. “I didn’t give birth to you, Katrin. Beth did. She got herself into trouble as we used to say when I was a girl. She had you and we kept you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kat could literally feel the blood drain from her face. If she hadn’t been sitting down her legs would have given way beneath her. It was as though her mind and her body had parted company. She heard the words. She examined them. But they made no sense.

  “Beth?” She barely realized she’d said her sister’s name aloud. No. Not her sister. “No. I don’t believe you.” The words seemed to drift from somewhere far away. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet.

  “I thought you needed to know,” Ann Oldfield said.

  “Why?” Kat got out. “Why would you think that?”

  “It’s the truth. I needed to tell you the truth.”

  Kat was still having trouble comprehending. Her whole life had been turned upside down. It had all been a lie. She had to get away from here. She shouldn’t have come. She should have left everything as it was, with the space between them. If she had, all this would never have happened.

  “I have to go,” she said then and her mother’s head moved from side to side again.

  “Katrin. I meant it all for the best,” she said brokenly, and Kat saw a tear overflow and run down the weathered cheek.

  Kat’s emotions spun out of control again. She was totally awash in a disorienting mixture of compassion, recrimination, disbelief and despair. “I have to believe that,” she said, almost to herself. “I have to go now. I have to think. About this. About everything.”

  “Will you,” Ann Oldfield swallowed, “come back?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I have to think it through.” Kat turned and walked out of the room, down the short corridor, past the now unattended nurse’s station, along the passage towards the elevators. As she approached them the lift’s doors pinged open and her father stepped out. No. Not her father. Her grandfather.

  John Oldfield was still lean, his body straight, belying his seventy odd years, but his face was drawn and lined with worry. Kat could only stare at him as though she’d never seen him before.

  “Katrin!” His worried face creased into a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be back before you got here. Your mother felt like ice cream.” He held up the plastic bag in his hand. “She’s never really fancied ice cream but no matter, long as she has something. Did you see your mother?”

  Kat couldn’t find her voice, and the smile on her father’s face faded and his face paled.

  “She hasn’t— What’s happened?” he asked in a choked voice.

  “She’s all right,” Kat got out.

  “Oh. Thank God! I thought—” He cleared his throat. “You’re looking well. You’ve barely changed. Maybe your hair’s a little shorter than it was.”

  Kat gulped a breath. “Mum told me,” she said flatly and he frowned.

  “Told you? What did she say? About what the doctors said?” He shook his head a little. “Look, love, I think we both, your mother and I, were panicking a little. The doctor came around just before I went downstairs. He’s going to do an angiogram tomorrow just to be on the safe side. Your mother’s been thinking heart attack or cancer. They’ve ruled out cancer, but your mother’s not convinced. She’s not herself. Look, there’s a lounge just down there. Let’s go in there. It’s private.”

  Kat let her father take her arm and guide her through a glass-topped door into a small room with a group of comfortable easy chairs, low tables piled with magazines, an almost full bookshelf and a television set.

  “Sit down, Kat. And we’ll talk.” He waited until Kat sank into a chair then sat down opposite her. “I thought originally that your mother’d had a stroke, but the doctors ruled that out too. They’ve had to keep her fairly heavily sedated because she gets so agitated. She keeps apologizing to me for, well, things I can’t recall happening.” He shook his head. “I think the doctors are now considering the possibility it could be psychological.”

  “Dad, stop.” Kat held up her hand. “I didn’t mean—I meant she told me the truth. About me. And Beth.”

  Impossibly, her father’s face lost more color. “I don’t know what you mean. She’s not herself. You can’t—”

  “She told me I’m your granddaughter. Are you saying that’s not true?” Kat asked him flatly.

  “I—I don’t know why—” John Oldfield ran a hand over his jawline, shook his head and swallowed. “Katrin. Your mother’s not well.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Dad. Just tell me if it’s true or not.”

  Her father’s gaze fell from hers. “She shouldn’t have told you,” he said at last, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought we’d discussed it. I thought we’d decided not to say anything. I can’t understand why she had to tell you. It serves no purpose.”

  “She seems to
think she’s dying and needed to confess,” Kat said and her father flinched. He stood up, paced the small carpet square.

  “She’s not dying. The doctor’s told her. I’ve told her.” He rubbed his jaw again. “My God, what a mess. What am I going to tell Beth?”

  “You might consider the truth.”

  He walked back, sank down in the chair again. “At the time I tried to talk your mother out of the idea of keeping it all a secret. But she was horrified Beth was pregnant out of wedlock. I didn’t feel as strongly about it as your mother did. It was just that Beth was so young, just a child herself. She hadn’t even finished high school. And she scarcely knew the boy.”

  “Has Beth talked to you about it? Since, I mean,” Kat asked.

  “No. Never.”

  Silence fell between them, Kat’s mind racing at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to fit it all into place. But that was the problem. Nothing fit. It was as though her life was a jigsaw puzzle and none of the pieces fit. They were the pieces belonging to someone else’s puzzle.

  She stood up. “I have to go.” She crossed to the door.

  “Will you come back?” His words echoed his wife’s.

  Kat turned, shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s all too new. I have to think it through.”

  “I wish you would, Katrin.”

  “It’s Kat,” she said petulantly.

  He nodded. “Kat. We’d like to see you. Your mother and I, well, we do love you both.” When Kat made no comment he stood up slowly, picked up the shopping bag with the ice cream for his wife and followed Kat into the hall.

  She walked over to the elevators and pushed the down button. When she turned back he was still standing there. He lifted his hand and then headed back down the hallway. And it seemed to Kat that he had aged in that short half-hour.

  Kat got through the next couple of days by throwing herself into her house renovations. Assembling the modular drawers and hanging space in her walk-in wardrobe took all her concentration. Translating the complicated instructions kept her mother’s revelations mostly at bay. Then there was Caleb’s birthday party. She collected an excited Meggie and drove to the Andrews’ house. Being with Jess assured any other thoughts were at least temporarily pushed to the back of her mind.