The Patterson Girls

by Rachael Johns

  ‘A word of what?’ Abigail asked, sounding more and more frustrated.

  Madeleine gripped the wheel so hard her nails dug into her palms. ‘Whatever it is, do you believe in it?’

  Again Mags was quiet for a long while. Finally, she sighed. ‘I wouldn’t like to say either way.’

  Madeleine’s jaw clenched in frustration. What kind of answer was that? But before she or Abigail could say anything more, Mags spoke again. ‘Do you really want to know?’

  Charlie’s words flashed into Madeleine’s head. Sometimes a little knowledge can be dangerous. But Madeleine had never been the kind of person who could let something lie. ‘Yes. I do,’ she said and Abigail agreed.

  Aunt Mags reached over and patted Madeleine’s knee. ‘If I tell you girls,’ she began, ‘you must promise never to tell your father. He’d never forgive me and the last thing he needs right now is more stress.’

  A chill scuttled down Madeleine’s spine. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Promise,’ came Abigail’s reply from behind them.

  ‘As I said, it’s probably nothing, but the story goes that my grandfather, your great-grandfather, James Patterson, had a brief liaison with a girl from a gypsy type family before he met his wife, Laura. The girl—Doris was her name—fell head over heels for him but apparently she thought she meant more to James than she actually did. He just saw her as a friend. The girl’s family were travellers, and when the others moved on, she and her sister stayed in town. I guess she hoped James would change his mind. But when he married Laura, the gypsy girl committed suicide.’

  Abigail gasped. ‘Oh God. Poor thing.’

  Mags tsked. ‘Poor James. Can you imagine the guilt? It wasn’t his fault. You don’t choose who you fall in love with.’ Although initially reluctant to talk about the curse, once she started Mags got caught up in the tale, loving the drama of imparting some old family gossip. ‘Anyway, Doris’s sister got a real bee in her bonnet about it and blamed Laura for her death. The story goes that she visited Laura in hospital when she had her first child and cursed all her female descendants. Since that day …’ She paused. For a second Madeleine thought she’d changed her mind, but then she finished, ‘no Patterson-born women have ever had children.’

  ‘Huh?’ Madeleine tried to get a grip on what Mags had just told her. The cynic in her spoke first. ‘Why curse the women when it was a man who broke her sister’s heart?’

  ‘Because,’ Mags said dramatically, ‘women get blamed for everything. Just look at Adam and Eve. Besides, who says curses have to make sense?’

  Madeleine racked her brain, thinking back over their family tree. She’d never paid much attention to be honest, but if she thought hard enough, she knew Mags was right. Her dad and Aunt Mags had one brother—Uncle William—who’d had four sons. Going back a generation, their grandfather had been one of three children, hence the two aunts, who were widowed young and lived out their lives like a couple of spinsters. But that was only two generations of Pattersons and as far as she knew Aunt Mags had never wanted kids, never married, never tried for a family. So, her mum was probably right—coincidences and codswallop.

  She felt a little let down. She was hoping for something a lot more exciting.

  ‘What happened to the woman who gave the curse?’ Abigail asked as Madeleine turned the car into the main street of Meadow Brook.

  ‘Oh, she stayed in town,’ Mags said, seemingly happy to tell all now she’d started. ‘Drove Laura wild, following her, shaking her head and uttering mumbo jumbo whenever she could. In fact, her daughter still lives here. You probably know her. She lives out on the edge of town all by herself, well, except for her cats. There’s been stories abounding about her for years.’

  Madeleine almost swerved off the road and into the local Australia Post mailbox at this news. She recovered, brought the car back into the middle of the lane and then looked in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘You mean Wacky Wanda?’ Abigail asked. Her face had gone deathly pale.

  Oblivious, Mags continued. ‘Her real name is Lorraine. She was the same age as my father but never attended school. She and her mum kept to themselves until her mum died and as far as I know she’s always lived alone. I feel sorry for the old girl. She must be in her nineties and I’m not sure she’s ever left Meadow Brook. Some say she’s not right in the head.’

  Madeleine met Abigail’s gaze in the mirror and saw her look of utter horror. ‘Sounds like the whole family weren’t right in the head,’ she said.

  Mags laughed. ‘Mad as cut snakes I’d say.’

  ‘But what if …’ Abigail’s question died on her tongue as Madeleine turned the van into the motel car park and saw an ambulance out the front.

  ‘Goodness gracious, what’s going on?’ Mags asked, leaning forward as if doing so would give her a better view.

  At that moment the front door of the motel opened and Charlie emerged, a stricken expression on her face as two men in ambulance uniforms wheeled out a stretcher, Lucinda bringing up the rear.

  ‘Dad!’ Abigail gasped.

  Madeleine flung open the door and almost tripped in her efforts to get to him. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded to no one in particular as she stopped alongside the stretcher, glancing at the oxygen mask and defibrillator attached to him

  ‘He had some kind of turn. They think it’s his heart,’ replied Lucinda, her voice shaky. ‘They’re taking him to Port Augusta.’

  Madeleine looked from her dad’s ashen face to the serious expressions of the volunteer ambulance officers. ‘Mitch,’ she said, recognising one of them. ‘Have you given him Aspirin or a GTN spray?’

  ‘Yes. We’ll look after him, Mads.’ He offered her what she guessed was meant to be a reassuring smile.

  Mitch might be good at driving trucks and fixing things but what did he know about fixing people? And as for the other volunteer, he didn’t look old enough to buy his own underwear. She puffed out a breath. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘It can’t be too bad or they’d have the lights and siren on, right?’ Abigail asked, sounding like a five-year-old in need of reassurance.

  It was the first time any of them had spoken since getting in the van almost ten minutes ago. Charlie took her eyes off the ambulance ahead of them and reached over to squeeze her sister’s hand. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’

  ‘Us Pattersons come from tough stock,’ Mags piped up from the passenger seat. ‘It’d take more than a dicky heart to do Brian in.’

  Lucinda, her knuckles white against the steering wheel, said tersely, ‘It could be something as simple as indigestion. Let’s not get carried away until we know the facts.’

  She spoke with such authority that everyone went quiet again, leaving Charlie alone with her thoughts. She might not be a doctor like Madeleine or even trained in first aid like Mitch but she knew one thing. Whatever had happened to Dad, it was her fault. Lucinda was married, and there was no orchestra in Meadow Brook for Abigail or a hospital for Madeleine, but what had been keeping Charlie in Melbourne when Dad needed her?

  Her stupid pride, that’s what.

  It had been unfair to expect him to cope on his own.

  She should have stayed with him. She could have moved back to Meadow Brook when Mum died so she could help him with the motel. She’d known this, had seriously contemplated it, but something had stopped her doing what she knew was right. Something that had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. The little girl who’d never been as smart as Madeleine, as organised as Lucinda or as talented as Abigail had wanted—needed—to prove herself. She’d wanted to show her sisters that her life was as important as theirs. That she too had commitments she couldn’t just abandon at the drop of a hat. But the price of that pride may have been her dad’s health.

  Please, she prayed silently to God or Mother Nature or anyone out there who might be able to help. Please let him be okay and I’ll come back.

  She loved her job a
t the café, her senior citizens hula-hooping classes were the highlight of her week, and she’d just signed up to do a diploma in naturopathy in the evenings. Yet none of these things were as important as Dad. Mostly it was the people that she loved at the café and she’d get plenty of interaction working at the motel. If she had some extra time maybe she could offer a yoga class in Meadow Brook. And the diploma would still be available in a few months or a year, whenever Dad sold the motel.

  As they zoomed along the Eyre Highway towards Port Augusta Regional Hospital, Charlie mentally made plans—all the loose ends she’d have to tie up before moving home and how quickly she could do them. It was better than wondering about what could be happening with Dad in the back of that ambulance.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours of driving rather than the thirty-minute journey it was, they arrived at the hospital. Lucinda parked in the first available car spot and they all escaped the vehicle as if it had just caught on fire. Even Aunt Mags, who wasn’t always steady on her feet, walked towards the building with urgency.

  They all knew where to find the Accident & Emergency waiting room. It was a smallish hospital and—as the queen of broken bones—Charlie had been there numerous times throughout her childhood. Someone had tried to make the place a little festive. Tinsel that looked liked it may have been new in 1973 was strung up across the ceilings, but it did little to cheer the place up. Mags settled herself on a plastic chair and picked up an ancient copy of Women’s Weekly but didn’t actually look at it. She tapped her heels on the hard floor and watched as Charlie, Abigail and Lucinda paced, their eyes glued on the door waiting for Madeleine or someone to come through with news. So much for making their first Christmas without Mum special.

  ‘I’m going to call Joe,’ Lucinda announced after about ten minutes, her mobile phone already at her ear.

  As Charlie half-heartedly listened to Lucinda on the phone, she wished there was someone she could call, simply for something to do to occupy her hands and mind. But the one person she’d always turned to in an emergency—the friend she’d called when she’d first found out about Mum—was already in there.

  Another ten minutes or so passed and then finally the door opened. Madeleine and Mitch appeared and the sisters rushed over. Mags heaved herself up and followed closely behind.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Can we see him?’

  Madeleine held up her hand. ‘The pain and tightening has eased in his chest. He’s doing a lot better now, but they’re going to do a few tests to try and work out what exactly happened and they’ll keep him in overnight for observation. Once they transfer him to a ward, we’ll be able to see him.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Charlie whispered as she reached out to hug Abigail.

  ‘Told you so,’ Mags said, squeezing Lucinda’s hand. ‘If it’s going to be a while I might go see my friend Judith—she’s in here with a ghastly UTI that just won’t leave her be. Back soon.’

  As Aunt Mags flitted off down the corridor towards the wards, Mitch grimaced. ‘I think she means our old English teacher Judith Clarkson, and that was way too much information.’

  Charlie laughed, a strange sound when she’d been so terrified only moments before, and then said, ‘Thanks for everything you did for Dad, Mitch. That was really scary and I’m glad it was you that came.’

  ‘Hey,’ Mitch took her arm and the two of them stepped away from her sisters. ‘You know I’d do anything for your old man. He’s been doing it tough lately, overworking himself, but hopefully this will be a bit of a wake-up call.’

  ‘Hmm …’ Charlie was about to tell him the decision she’d made on the way here, but the other ambulance officer came up behind them.

  ‘You ready to go?’ he asked, obviously eager to get back to his Christmas lunch.

  Not even glancing at the other bloke, Mitch met Charlie’s eyes. ‘Will you be okay? I can stay if you like. Paul can take the ambulance back.’

  She shook her head. ‘You should be with your family today. I’ve got my sisters.’

  He gave her a look that said he knew just how reassuring they could be, which made her laugh again. She reached up and pulled him into a hug. ‘Go. I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Okay.’ With a reluctant sigh, Mitch lifted a hand to wave to the others. ‘See you lot soon.’ And then he followed his offsider back to the ambulance.

  ‘How come I never noticed he’s a bit of all right?’ Abigail asked as Charlie turned back to them. ‘Maybe it’s the outfit. They’re not wrong about a man in uniform.’ She lifted her hand and fanned her face. ‘Maybe I should see if he wants to take me out for a drink while I’m in town?’

  Charlie felt her heart quicken. Mitch was her friend and the last thing she needed was one of her sisters complicating issues.

  ‘Uh, boyfriend?’ Madeleine and Lucinda reminded Abigail, and Charlie couldn’t help but smirk.

  ‘Oh, right.’ She looked flustered. ‘Is there a coffee machine in this place?’

  ‘Probably, but it’ll be vile,’ said Madeleine.

  Lucinda sighed. ‘I don’t care what it tastes like, I need caffeine.’

  ‘Me too,’ Abigail agreed, digging in her handbag for her purse. ‘Who else wants one?’

  Madeleine and Charlie both agreed that right now bad caffeine was better than none and Lucinda volunteered to accompany Abigail on the mission. As they hurried down the corridor, their shoes click-clacking on the floor, Madeleine and Charlie flopped down into plastic chairs.

  Lucinda sat down and tried to do the impossible—get comfortable on a hard plastic chair and enjoy a polystyrene cup of lukewarm weak coffee while they waited to see Dad. Her sisters sat alongside her in complete silence, like four naughty schoolchildren in line to see the principal. She wished Joe was here. He could always make her relax and laugh in the grimmest situations and right now she was in dire need of one of his mammoth hugs. She’d spoken to him briefly, but although hearing his voice was good, it wasn’t a substitute for having him here. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine his arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his strong shoulder.

  ‘Hey, you’ll never guess what?’ Abigail exclaimed, bursting her fantasy.

  Lucinda blinked and only just managed to avoid spilling her poor excuse for coffee. ‘What?’

  ‘Aunt Mags told us about the curse,’ she said, her lips doing a weird thing between a frown and a smile.

  Madeleine half-chuckled. ‘Mum was right. Codswallop.’

  Charlie leaned forward from the end of the row and looked to Abigail and Madeleine. ‘Well, are you going to fill us in?’

  Madeleine raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought you and Lucinda were happy in ignorant bliss.’

  ‘Oh, just tell us,’ Lucinda snapped. At least it would give them something to focus on aside from Dad and the dilemma of what they should do once he was discharged. The others might have been too selfish to think about it, but it was blindingly clear to her that they couldn’t leave him alone to fend for himself and the motel anymore.

  ‘Well,’ Abigail said and then paused for dramatics, ‘apparently none of us will be able to bear children.’

  Madeleine shook her head in disgust but Lucinda’s heart turned to ice. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’

  Abigail recounted what Aunt Mags had told them about the curse and with every word she uttered, Lucinda felt more and more like the muesli she’d scoffed for breakfast and the few mouthfuls of dire coffee were going to make a reappearance.

  ‘Luce, are you okay?’ Charlie asked, placing a hand on Lucinda’s knee.

  Unable to reply, she slammed her hand over her mouth, leapt up and ran. She wasn’t sure where the public bathrooms were so she made a mad dash for the exit, praying she’d make it outside in time. Almost crashing into a family coming inside, she tried to mumble an apology as she headed for the shrubbery off to the left.

  Madeleine came up behind her as she was heaving the contents of h
er stomach all over a hydrangea bush. ‘Was it something you ate?’

  Lucinda gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t Charlie have followed her? At least she’d have offered some sympathy or volunteered to hold back her hair. Sometimes she wondered about Madeleine’s bedside manner. She retched again, but nothing more came since she’d been too busy cooking breakfast for the guests to eat much that morning.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Madeleine tried again, her voice softer this time, and then—shock horror—Lucinda felt her sister’s palm on her back, moving in a soothing motion. That one tiny and unexpected gesture undid what was left of her self-control.

  Tears poured messily down her cheeks, her body shuddering uncontrollably. She stumbled a few feet and then sunk onto the dry, brownish grass—obviously the hospital paid heed to South Australian water restrictions.

  ‘Oh my God, Lucinda. What’s the matter?’ Madeleine, sounding uncharacteristically worried, dropped to her haunches beside her.

  Lucinda felt mortified by this ugly display of the emotions when she’d been trying so hard to hold it all together these last few days, but found she could do nothing to rein them in. Like one of her students, hurt in the playground and inconsolable, she simply couldn’t calm herself.

  ‘Is this because of Dad?’ Madeleine asked. ‘I know he frightened us all, but if he’s sensible and slows down a little, he’ll be fine.’

  Lucinda managed to shake her head. She felt guilty that she was so worked up over the baby thing when Dad was lying in the hospital with who knows what attached to him, but she couldn’t help it. The baby thing consumed her.

  ‘Are you sick then?’ Madeleine barked, her tone a little impatient.

  ‘Yes,’ Lucinda snapped, finally turning and looking into her sister’s face. ‘I’m sick of not getting pregnant! I’m sick of seeing babies wherever I look! I’m sick of having to congratulate friends on their growing families! And now I hear this … that I’m cursed!’

  ‘Whoa, let’s backtrack a little. Are you having difficulties conceiving?’

  Lucinda nodded as she swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.