Jacqueline tried to remember if she had heard STD pips when she’d answered the phone, then sighed. That didn’t mean anything these days; her parents were with a different phone company and when they phoned there were never any STD pips preceding their greeting. Pull yourself together, she told herself. You are a confident, capable young woman. And don’t forget the self-defence lessons, you were pretty damn good.
Yes, I was, Jacqueline mused, a smile crossing her face. Standing up, she threw her shoulders back defiantly and went to the phone to call her mother.
A cordless would be good, she thought, as she pulled the phone down to sit cross-legged on the floor by the hallstand. Eileen Havelock answered almost instantly, as if she was right by the phone.
‘Oh hello, I was just about to call you,’ her mother said brightly.
‘So you didn’t try to call a few minutes ago?’
‘No. Why? You sound a little worried.’
‘Oh nothing, you know what it’s like when you don’t get to the phone in time and you’re left wondering who it was?’
‘I do. Perhaps you need to get an answering machine. Now apparently a friend rang your father’s surgery looking for your details.’
Jacqueline stiffened. A friend? Ringing her father’s surgery?
‘She spoke to Janine on reception. A young lady, Joanna Coates, or something like that. Perhaps it was her.’
Jacqueline hadn’t realised she was holding her breath until she let it out loudly when she heard ‘the friend’ was female. And she was sure her heart must have stopped as well because now it seemed to be making up for lost time.
‘That was all right, wasn’t it?’ Eileen asked, concern obvious in her voice.
‘Yes, fine,’ Jacqueline said, trying to regain her composure and at the same time remember who Joanna Coates was. The name didn’t ring any bells, but then she’d gone to uni with heaps of people she didn’t remember the names of. ‘Sorry I didn’t call back the other night, Mum.’
‘That’s quite alright, dear. Did you have a nice time?’
‘Yes. Actually it’s been a rather social week.’
Jacqueline told her mother about the CWA visit, dinner with the Squires, and her kind, sweet neighbour, Ethel, across the way. Of course she left out the bit about making a drunken fool of herself, causing widespread gossip, and the reprimand she’d received from the crusty old doctor.
‘I’m glad you’re settling in so well,’ Eileen said, when Jacqueline had finished. ‘Speaking of which,’ she continued, ‘Dad and I want to visit you soon. Only if it’s okay with you?’
Oh no, Jacqueline thought, I haven’t even settled in myself. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
‘Of course, that would be great.’ There was really nothing else she could have said.
‘If you don’t have the space, I’m sure we can find a hotel room,’ her mother added.
‘Not at all, I’d love to have you. You can have my bed and I’ll take one of the two rooms with singles.’
‘Oh we don’t want to put you out,’ her mother exclaimed.
Jacqueline smiled dryly. ‘Seriously, it’s fine. So, when are you coming?’ she asked, crossing her fingers and hoping she was being given notice well in advance. Months, preferably.
‘Next weekend, actually. Dad’s got Jeffrey taking over more responsibility so he thinks it’s about time to put him to the test. And, of course, it wouldn’t be the same if he were just around the corner. Apparently he’s going to retire sometime …’
Eileen sounded sceptical and Jacqueline silently agreed with her. There was no way she could picture her father wandering across the lawn in his slippers to get the morning paper. If her mother believed it would ever happen, she was deluding herself. No, more likely he’d die at a ripe old age still trying to save the life of some furry or scaly creature.
‘So we thought we’d come and meet all these lovely people you’re talking about and look this quaint little town of yours over.’
‘Oh,’ was all Jacqueline managed before catching herself. ‘Next weekend will be great. I can’t wait to see you both. But allow plenty of time for the drive. It takes over five hours and it’s pretty boring, so you’ll need lots of rest stops.’ Listen to me, I sound like my mother, Jacqueline berated herself.
‘Yes, dear,’ her mother replied, in a tone that suggested she knew better but didn’t want to get into it right now. ‘Well, I’d better be going. Dad sends his love. We look forward to seeing you for dinner on Friday night, but we’ll call just before we leave.’
‘Great. See you then. Love to Dad,’ Jacqueline said, as she hung up the phone. ‘Mm, I can hardly wait,’ she said sardonically, as she got up and put the phone back on the stand. Oh well, at least I have a week to psych myself up.
On Monday morning Ethel turned up at Jacqueline’s office first thing with the news that she’d managed to organise for Jacqueline to give a talk to a combined meeting of the local Agricultural Bureau and Apex Club on Thursday night, to probably around thirty attendees, all of them men. Don’t these people have any interests where both sexes mix? Jacqueline silently wondered.
‘How am I going to deal with all those men?’ Jacqueline asked, sounding incredulous.
‘You’ll find a way,’ Ethel encouraged. ‘And anyway, I’ll be there to help you,’ she added, bending forward and wiggling her chest seductively.
‘Right,’ Jacqueline said, raising her eyebrows. They grinned at each other before bursting into hearty laughter.
When Ethel left, Jacqueline pulled Damien McAllister’s file from the nearby cabinet drawer and began making notes of questions for their next session, which was due to start in less than half an hour. She was disappointed she hadn’t been given his journal to analyse over the weekend, especially after what she’d thought was a breakthrough in their last meeting.
Her gut feeling on this patient was that the key lay in his handling of the grief after his father’s death, in whatever way he’d chosen to cope with his loss. If she could just get him to open up and discuss it with her, Jacqueline was sure they could make considerable headway.
Also, she knew nothing about his relationships with other family members, or if he even had anyone else. The values of parents impinged significantly on, if not totally determined, the way people dealt with trauma, and of course everyday life for that matter. Was his mother still alive and a big part of his life? Were there other siblings?
His appointment time was nine, and when he didn’t show, Jacqueline found herself checking her watch every few minutes. At ten, her dwindling sense of anticipation finally sank completely and she reluctantly forced herself to accept the chances of him showing were now next to nil.
The rest of the morning passed in a steady stream of phone calls and patient sessions. At odd times, often when her patients were reporting their long lists of insecurities, Jacqueline found herself wondering about Damien’s reason for not showing, then scolding herself for getting too involved in the one patient.
Luckily, her patients seemed oblivious of her being preoccupied and left with considerably lighter steps and broader smiles. That was the thing with a psychologist’s workload, she thought, filled mostly with mundane cases of people just needing a sounding board.
It was becoming increasingly clear that while country towns were known for their little groups of women and old men chatting on street corners, these talks were purely for the propagation of gossip about others and not about sharing one’s problems or receiving obviously much-needed emotional support. There had been a steady stream of women in to see her since Wednesday’s CWA talk and while she was pleased business was picking up, it was hardly challenging. God only knows what this Thursday’s going to incite, she thought. Footballers crying all over her desk that no one understood their sensitive side?
Jacqueline allowed herself a grin. She’d noticed how the occupants of Doctor Squire’s waiting area always turned their heads to see who was entering or leaving her office. J
ust think of the fuss men being in here with me will cause, she thought. But of course there was always the chance they mightn’t like her talk.
Jacqueline thought about Damien McAllister for the umpteenth time that day and after the last booked appointment left at two forty-five she put her files away, tidied her desk and locked up for the day. She was secretly thankful for the ladies’ bowls competition that had kept her calendar free from bookings for the rest of the afternoon and ensured there’d be little likelihood of walk-ins. Anyway, I’m sort of still working, just not in the office.
Her heart was lighter when she pulled her car into her driveway and she knew she was doing the right thing. Well, she hoped so anyway. Ethel arrived seconds later with her wide-brimmed hat in floral drill fabric and matching handbag over her arm. She appeared to Jacqueline to be brimming with excitement, nearly jumping out of her skin. Jacqueline had had to swear her to absolute secrecy and tell her she really oughtn’t be involving her, patient confidentiality and everything, but she didn’t yet have the local knowledge she needed.
When she’d phoned to ask Ethel’s help, she’d only given the bare bones. Yes, Ethel had replied enthusiastically, of course she knew Damien McAllister: her late husband Gordon, bless him, was his father’s uncle. So, Damien was in fact her great-nephew by marriage, she’d concluded proudly.
Ethel had gone on to say the families had been close knit, having big lunches and the whole bit until Dean, Damien’s father, had passed away. Since then, around nine years, they hadn’t seen as much of each other. ‘All just got too busy, I suppose,’ Ethel had said wistfully.
Jacqueline was excited with Ethel’s information and a little annoyed with herself that she hadn’t asked her about Damien earlier. Was there nothing the old dear didn’t know?
Ethel navigated and before long they had left the main sealed highway and were cautiously making their way along a rubble road that seemed barely wide enough for two cars to safely pass each other. Jacqueline was amazed at how quickly you could feel like you were in a remote area of bush once you left town.
They came to a large, closed, steel gate with a handpainted sign advising they were about to enter the private property of T.R. and D.M. McAllister and that trespassers would be prosecuted. Jacqueline shuddered slightly as she brought the car to a halt and considered the warning. Ethel leapt out to open the gate while Jacqueline fought the urge to turn around and drive away. She didn’t exactly feel welcome. What if Damien had decided he didn’t want her therapy any more and didn’t feel comfortable ringing to cancel?
‘Come on,’ Ethel urged after closing the gate behind the car and bounding back into the passenger’s seat with an agility defying her age.
‘Who’s T-R?’ Jacqueline asked, the car still in neutral with the handbrake on.
‘Oh, his mother, Tina. Middle name’s Ruth. They’ve been running the place as a partnership since Dean died.’
‘What’s she like?’ Jacqueline asked cautiously.
‘Oh, she’s all right. Bit controlling, pretty uptight. Had a hell of a time when Dean was sick, so I suppose it’s understandable. Well, come on then,’ Ethel again urged.
‘I’m not so sure we should be doing this,’ Jacqueline said tentatively, the car still motionless as she stared through the now rain-speckled windscreen.
‘Fiddlesticks!’ Ethel cried. ‘We’re two girls out for a nice afternoon drive,’ she said.
Jacqueline turned to look at Ethel and rolled her eyes. ‘Now we’re not exactly just out for a nice afternoon drive, are we?’ she asked, mimicking Ethel.
‘What harm could it do?’
‘Well, we’re trespassing for starters,’ Jacqueline replied.
‘Everyone has a sign like that. It’s for outsiders. Locals are always welcome. Anyway, I’m family. Perhaps I’m worried about Damien and have brought you along for company,’ Ethel suggested, feigning innocence.
‘Oh Ethel, you’re impossible. Always an answer for everything,’ Jacqueline said with a chuckle. She pushed the gear stick forward and released the handbrake.
The rugged, barely formed driveway seemed to go on forever. Jacqueline was beginning to think they must have gone the wrong way when they finally rounded a bend to find a clearing with a house and mass of native trees and shrubs. Jacqueline’s heart skipped a beat then pounded hard against her ribs. There was no going back now.
‘Oh well, looks like we’re in luck,’ Ethel said, pointing to the ute parked under the carport. ‘He’s here.’
Jacqueline had been secretly hoping Damien was somewhere else. Shit, I haven’t even thought about what I’ll say, she thought.
But Ethel was already out of the car and halfway to the back door. ‘Come on,’ she mouthed, waving a beckoning finger, then crossed the yard and rapped on the screen door.
‘Coming,’ Jacqueline mumbled, as she slowly got out of the car and made her way to where Ethel stood.
After a few moments the door was cautiously opened and an obviously surprised Damien peered out. When he caught sight of Jacqueline standing by Ethel’s elbow he began running his hands through his untidy hair.
‘Shit, I’m so sorry, I meant to call,’ he blurted.
‘That’s okay,’ Jacqueline said kindly. She was shocked at his unkempt appearance. He looked like he’d just woken up or had been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and watering, almost lost in the dark bluish rings beneath them. He looked a lot paler than she remembered.
Ethel must have had similar thoughts because she quickly turned and shot Jacqueline a pained look as they mounted the steps to enter after Damien had finally composed himself and invited them in.
As they passed through the kitchen and into the dining room, Jacqueline noticed dishes were piled haphazardly in the sink and butter and milk had been left out on the bench. Damien sat down with them and seemed to Jacqueline to be more lost than he’d been in either of his sessions with her. She was glad she’d made the effort to come.
Ethel jumped up and suggested she get them a cup of tea and Damien nodded his agreement.
‘I’ll have a Milo thanks, Auntie Ethel,’ he said quietly.
He was silent until Ethel was in the kitchen almost out of hearing.
‘I’m really sorry about not turning up,’ he said. ‘I meant to call, but I’ve been busy and every time I remembered it was the wrong time of the day.’
‘It’s okay, Damien, I understand. These things happen.’
‘I don’t think you do. I can’t come and see you anymore.’
‘Oh, why is that?’ Jacqueline asked, looking into his deep hazelnut eyes.
Damien shrugged, and looked down at his hands lying in his lap.
‘Has something happened?’ Jacqueline calmly and quietly urged.
‘Just something Mum said.’ He shrugged, still staring down at his hands.
‘And what was that?’
‘You shouldn’t discuss your problems with strangers.’
‘Oh,’ was all Jacqueline could manage.
‘She’s right; it’ll make her look bad.’
‘You talking to me will make her look bad?’
‘Yeah.’
‘She doesn’t have to know.’
‘She already does.’
‘But not what we’ve discussed, right?’
‘No.’
‘Well then, where’s the problem?’
‘Small towns – what they don’t know they make up.’
‘I’m not following,’ Jacqueline said, frowning slightly.
‘It’s not about me, it’s about Mum.’
Suddenly Jacqueline realised what he meant; that no one was an individual. The whole damn place was interconnected like a spider web, and emotionally just as lethal as the redbacks she’d been warned about. She thought back to Doctor Squire’s reaction to her binge drinking and the warmth of comprehension flooded through her. Jacqueline wanted to wrap her arms around Damien, kiss the top of his thick chocolate mop, and tell him he was the most honest, tog
ether person she’d met in Wattle Creek.
‘I know what you mean,’ she said thoughtfully, not really intending to speak aloud.
‘You do?’ he asked, looking up with wide, grateful eyes.
‘Yep. You can’t truly be yourself because there’s always someone watching, judging.’
‘Yeah,’ Damien breathed deeply. Jacqueline saw the tension leave his body and felt it drain from her own. At that moment she wished he wasn’t a patient. Actually he wasn’t, technically, any more.
‘Well, I want you to know I’m not here to judge. I also want you to know there are no rules about what we have to discuss. I may have been your psychologist, but I also want you to think of me as your friend.’
Damien nodded.
At that moment Ethel reappeared and put two mugs on the table. Jacqueline momentarily cursed the interruption, but counselled herself that it wasn’t Ethel’s fault. And anyway, there really wasn’t much else to be said. Damien did seem pretty definite, and pretty brainwashed by his mother, she thought. She only hoped in time he might change his mind.
‘Thanks, Ethel,’ she said, as Ethel sat down opposite her.
‘Yeah, thanks Auntie Ethel,’ Damien said, picking up his steaming mug and giving it all his attention.
They lapsed into silence.
‘So, they say there’s a bit of rain on the way. We had a few spots on the car just now. That’ll be good, won’t it?’ Jacqueline said.
‘Nup. Pain in the arse,’ Damien mumbled.
‘Oh?’ Jacqueline was confused. Didn’t farmers always want rain?
‘I’m supposed to be rolling stubble and you can only do it when it’s hot and dry. Even a little bit’ll stuff me up for days.’
‘Oh, right, sorry, I didn’t know,’ Jacqueline said, feeling embarrassed.
‘So how are things?’ Ethel asked cheerfully.
Wattle Creek Page 12
