The Patterson Girls

by Rachael Johns

  She laughed. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Yes, you have,’ he said, before pulling back. ‘Now, I’m off to hunt down a burger with the lot. Do you want a veggie one?’

  Charlie shuddered at the thought of exactly what a veggie burger from the kind of burger joint Mitch liked would contain. She shook her head. ‘I’ve got a pantry full of food.’

  Mitch, who’d been standing in front of the pantry, opened the cupboard, peered inside and eyed the jars of seeds and nuts. ‘None of that, my dear,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, ‘can be called food.’

  ‘On that we’ll just have to agree to disagree.’ She laughed and picked up the kettle as Mitch swaggered back down the hall.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Lucinda had just looked up from the reception desk to see Mrs Sampson standing in the doorway. ‘You’re supposed to be on holidays. In Adelaide. With your boys.’

  Mrs Sampson stepped inside, the door banging shut behind her. ‘I’ve been to Adelaide, I’ve annoyed my daughters-in-law and spoilt my grandkids and now I’m back where I’m needed. What’s this about Brian having a heart attack? Is he okay? Why didn’t you call me?’

  Lucinda chose to answer the questions in reverse order. ‘We didn’t call because you are not on the roster this week and Madeleine, Abigail and I are managing just fine.’

  Fine, that is, after a couple of days of bickering over who was in charge and who would do which jobs. Just when it was almost time for Abigail and Madeleine to leave again, they’d finally got into a solid rhythm.

  ‘Dad’s fine too,’ Lucinda continued. ‘He’s taking it easy for as long as we can keep him pinned down but you can imagine how difficult that is. And it wasn’t a heart attack. Merely a bad case of angina. Still, the doctor said if he doesn’t slow down and stress less, it might turn into a heart attack, so they’re sending him off to see a specialist.’

  ‘Silly man.’ Mrs Sampson shook her head and perched her hands on her hips. ‘I’m always telling him he’s doing too much, but he’s as stubborn as an ox. He needs to learn when to take it easy for his own good.’

  Lucinda raised her eyebrows. That sounded like the pot calling the kettle black but she bit her tongue. Thankfully, after a few days with her family, Mrs Sampson looked revived, almost like a new woman. ‘I guess keeping busy keeps his mind off Mum. How did you find out anyway?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ve forgotten about the bush telegraph. I’ve lived in this town a long time—I have ears and eyes all over the place.’

  Lucinda could well believe it. The bush telegraph even gave Facebook a run for its money. ‘Right, so I suppose you know that Charlie and Mitch have gone to Melbourne to collect her things, and that she’s moving back for a bit to help Dad.’

  For a moment Mrs Sampson looked a little put out by this prospect. ‘You girls don’t need to disrupt your lives. Brian and I—’

  Lucinda cut in. ‘Are overworked, and as much as we appreciate everything you do, Mrs Sampson, things can’t go on the way they have been.’

  Mrs Sampson looked as if she were about to protest but then thought better of it. ‘Fair enough. It’ll be good for Brian to have one of his girls home. Is he in the house?’

  Lucinda nodded.

  ‘Very well, I’ll go in and say hello, tell the other girls I’m back.’

  ‘Madeleine and Abigail will be very happy to see you. They try their best, but neither of them are cut out for domesticities.’

  Mrs Sampson chuckled and started towards the door, but she turned back to Lucinda at the last minute. ‘You girls are all grown up now. Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me Sal? Mrs Sampson makes me feel like somebody’s grandma.’

  Lucinda didn’t remind her that she was somebody’s grandma and neither did she relent and use the housekeeper’s first name. Enough things had changed in the last six months, so she needed to hold onto some normality.

  Barely two seconds after she’d left, the door opened again and this time Aunt Mags appeared.

  ‘Don’t stand there looking like a stunned mullet, girl,’ she barked as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. ‘I’m parched and I need a stiff drink.’

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I hitchhiked,’ Mags replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, ‘and before you start lecturing, I’ll have you know I’ve hitchhiked plenty of times before. I’m a very good judge of character. I’m still alive, aren’t I? You young things are far too paranoid these days.’

  Feeling a tension headache coming on and knowing there was no point arguing, Lucinda said, ‘What can I get you to drink?’

  ‘I’ll have a Scotch on the rocks.’ Aunt Mags stepped closer to reception and dumped her enormous handbag on the desk. She’d always had massive handbags—when the girls were little they’d thought her bag was like Mary Poppins’s carpet bag as it always carried special treats. ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Dad, Madeleine, Abigail and Mrs Sampson are over in the house. It’s a quiet time of day. I was just about to head in there and continue going through more of Mum’s things.’

  For a brief second a shadow crossed Aunt Mag’s cheerful face. ‘Well, I’ll help then. I didn’t have anything on today and since we missed out on our family get-together, I thought I’d come for a visit, check that my little brother is behaving himself.’

  Smiling, Lucinda walked around the desk and pulled her into a hug. ‘It’s lovely to see you, but I do wish you’d called. One of us could have driven over to collect you.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Mags waved a hand in front of her face. ‘Where’s the fun in that? The truck driver who gave me a lift was very nice on the eye.’

  Lucinda couldn’t help smiling. No wonder Aunt Mags had never married—there wasn’t a man on the planet who’d ever be able to tame her. ‘You go on inside. I’ll bring your drink.’

  ‘Bring the whole bottle,’ Aunt Mags ordered as she went through into the house. ‘I need to catch up for Christmas Day.’

  Seconds later Lucinda heard the excited shrieks of her sisters. Truth was, they could all do with a dose of their aunt’s special brand of crazy.

  ‘I wish Charlie was here,’ Abigail sighed. The three sisters, Mags and Dad sat around the kitchen table, enjoying afternoon tea as they pored over an album they’d found in a box alongside Mum’s clothes, shoes and other keepsakes. It contained photos from before their parents had married and Mum looked so young, a little hippy-ish—like Charlie.

  ‘I know,’ Lucinda agreed, ‘but we’re keeping all these photos, so I’ll make sure she sees them when she and Mitch come back.’

  ‘Oh look,’ Abigail shrieked, distracted by a photo of Mum in a tiny psychedelic patterned skirt, huge wedge platforms and a cowl-neck sweater. ‘She looks like Marcia from The Brady Bunch.’

  The others laughed and Lucinda had to concede there was a distinct similarity. Mum could have been Marcia’s twin.

  ‘She was far more beautiful than Marcia Brady,’ Dad mused, staring wistfully down at the photo.

  ‘Must be why she had so many admirers,’ Madeleine noted, flicking through the next few pages in which Mum had a different man on her arm in each photo.

  ‘Annette was always popular with the boys.’ Mags laughed. ‘But who could blame them?’

  Dad smiled wistfully. ‘I was the luckiest man alive. She had the pick of all the blokes in town and for some darn reason, she chose me.’

  ‘Dad!’ Madeleine exclaimed. ‘Of course she chose you. You were the cream of the crop, still are. I blame you for me not being able to find a man. None of them live up to the high standards you set.’

  ‘Is that your problem?’ Abigail asked, unable to help herself. ‘I thought it was just because you were such a bitch.’

  ‘Abigail!’ Dad chastised, but Abigail saw the amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Joking,’ she said and Madeleine laughed so no more was said on the matter.

  Som
ehow they finished their coffees and dragged themselves away from the photos. Dad went back into the motel but Aunt Mags followed the girls down the corridor and into their parents’ bedroom to continue on with the clothes. Abigail wasn’t sure how much work they’d get done with their eccentric aunty buzzing about but she was glad of her presence. It was almost impossible to be glum when Auntie Mags was running commentary.

  As they delved deeper into Mum’s cupboards, arguments ensued over her shoes and accessories. Madeleine was all for throwing practically everything out or at least donating it to the local op shop.

  Lucinda shook her head at this suggestion. ‘I don’t want all the locals walking around town in Mum’s old clothes.’

  Abigail had to agree. Although she wouldn’t be around to see such a sight, she didn’t like the idea of it. If they had to give away Mum’s stuff, she’d rather it went further afield, but the truth was, she didn’t want to give any of it away.

  ‘Doesn’t this feel wrong?’ she said, holding up a beautiful soft chenille jumper and touching it against her cheek. It still smelled of Mum’s citrus perfume. ‘It’s like with every item we agree to throw away, we’re getting rid of a little bit of her.’

  She swallowed, knowing that any moment, she’d succumb to tears. She’d been strong the last few days—even when Dad had given them the scare of their life—but the emotional exhaustion of Dad, Mum and keeping her secret was starting to take its toll.

  Her sisters looked stricken and neither said a word, surprising for two people who usually had plenty to say about everything.

  ‘Now, now, girls,’ Aunt Mags chided. ‘Don’t get so maudlin.’ She heaved herself up from where she’d been perched on the bed, all but snatched the jumper from Abigail and shoved it into a black plastic bag. ‘Your mother wasn’t that jumper. Just like she wasn’t those shoes or any of these dresses. I know you’re all terrified about forgetting her, but that will never happen while you hold her close in your hearts. You need to hold onto the special memories—your individual ones and the ones you all share. No one can ever take those away from you.’

  Abigail and her sisters nodded and she guessed their heads were probably as full of such memories as hers was.

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ Lucinda said, folding the blouse she’d been holding and placing it into the black bag.

  Aunt Mags grinned, her ancient smile lines crinkling around her eyes. ‘I’m not saying you need to ditch everything, but be sensible. Your father set you girls this task because he can’t bear to throw anything away that belonged to Annette, but he trusts you to sort the special keepsakes from the rest. Now, let’s keep going or you’re not going to finish before you all fly away again.’

  Abigail allowed herself one more quick sniff and then continued on with her aunt and sisters. Eventually they managed to divide it all into piles to throw and piles to donate, with certain items to be kept because they were sentimental, like the pair of Russian doll earrings Mum wore every year on her birthday. All the sisters were to go home with a pair of shoes or a special outfit that meant something to them. Although Charlie wasn’t there, they were mindful of her and shot off the occasional photo message to keep her in the loop.

  They slowed again when they started on the other boxes. Whenever they found something that made them a little weepy—like the baby scrapbooks Mum had lovingly crafted long before it was fashionable to do such things—Mags would say something funny to make them all smile again. She’d remind them that these books and all the other memories Mum had made simply proved what a special person she was.

  ‘And don’t forget to speak about her with Brian,’ she said. ‘Men typically don’t like to wear their hearts on their sleeves but bottling up grief isn’t healthy for anyone.’

  ‘I think we’ve seen that first hand,’ Madeleine mused, referring to Dad’s ride in the ambulance and his short stay in hospital.

  ‘Exactly.’ Aunt Mags nodded once. ‘It’s up to us women to show him that talking about Annette is both healthy for the soul and necessary to keep her memory alive. Your mum was one of a kind, my lovelies, and she deserves to be remembered accordingly.’

  On this the Patterson girls all agreed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Madeleine felt an uncharacteristic clench of guilt around her heart as she leant forward to hug Dad goodbye. Back on his feet now, although supposedly taking things easy, he’d insisted on driving her and Abigail to the bus stop in Port Augusta. Lucinda had stayed behind at the motel with Mrs Sampson, and Charlie and Mitch would be back tomorrow. She should have been over the moon that she was heading back to normality, back to her job at St Joe’s, but she couldn’t help but feel she was bailing out of other responsibilities.

  ‘Promise to be sensible,’ she said as she pulled out of her father’s embrace to look at him. ‘You scared us all the other day and I don’t want the next time I come home to be your funeral.’ It was blunt, but sometimes you needed to say things as they were. ‘Let Charlie take on the load Mum used to carry. Maybe even take up a hobby or something. Didn’t you used to play golf way back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth?’

  ‘Just because you’re as tall as me now, young lady, doesn’t mean I’ll put up with your cheek.’ But he smiled as he said this and Madeleine felt satisfied he looked a little more rested than when they’d arrived a week ago. ‘Who knows, maybe I will dig out the old clubs.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear.’ She gave him another kiss on the cheek as Abigail nudged her in the side. ‘They’re about to leave, we have to go.’

  Madeleine stepped aside as Abigail threw her arms around Dad. ‘I love you, Daddy. I’m going to miss you. Promise I’ll come visit again soon.’ She sniffed as she pulled back and Madeleine saw there was water in their father’s eyes also.

  ‘Come on, they’ll leave without us,’ she said before she too started blubbering. That was what she got for hanging out with her overemotional sisters for a week. Smiling inwardly, she thought she actually might miss them this time. Despite the odd disagreement and the stresses of dealing with Dad’s heart scare, it had been fun spending time with them. After Lucinda had opened up to Madeleine, they’d felt closer than they had in a long time and she hoped she’d be hearing good news from her sister and Joe very soon.

  One thing she wouldn’t miss was cleaning the rooms. Rubber gloves did not for a good look make. Except in theatre of course.

  With no time to stand around reminiscing, she grabbed hold of Abigail’s hand and tugged her towards the open door of the bus. ‘Bye, Dad,’ they called over their shoulders.

  He stood in front of the bus stop, waving as they climbed on board and settled themselves in the seats Madeleine had reserved right up the front. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d travelled by bus—maybe in high school on an excursion—but they hadn’t wanted Dad or Lucinda to have to drive them all the way to Adelaide. Hugo, who always teased her about enjoying the finer things in life, would laugh himself stupid if he ever found out. Not that he would. By the time she got off her flight at Thurgood Marshall airport, any horrors she might experience on this bus would have been overridden by the pleasure of flying international first class.

  Abigail sighed as she slumped into her seat next to Madeleine. ‘I feel like we only just arrived and now we’re leaving.’

  ‘And yet at the same time I feel like we’ve been home forever,’ Madeleine said. Funny how she still thought of Meadow Brook as home, even though she never planned to go back there for good. ‘It’ll be good to get back to work though. I don’t want to have to change anyone else’s sheets for as long as I live.’

  Abigail made a tiny noise as if she were trying to laugh but hadn’t quite been able.

  ‘You okay?’ Madeleine asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Her sister nodded and pasted on a clearly forced smile. ‘I just …’ She shook her head. ‘Maybe I should have stuck around a bit longer. It doesn’t seem fair leaving Charlie to shoulder all the responsibility
and—’

  Madeleine cut her off. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t give up your position in the orchestra and Dad would hate himself if you did. He’s got Charlie and Mrs Sampson now; they’ll keep him in line.’

  Abigail exhaled slowly. ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘Of course I am.’ Then, as the bus veered away from the kerb, Madeleine asked, ‘Is your boyfriend flying back to London with you? What’s his name again?’ Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure Abigail had ever said.

  ‘Um … Jack. And no. He’s spending another couple of weeks with his family.’

  ‘You didn’t want to catch up with him and meet the parents?’

  ‘Lord, no.’ Abigail sounded appalled. ‘We’re not at that stage yet.’

  The bus driver’s voice sounded through the overhead speakers. ‘Welcome to those joining us at Port Augusta. A brief reminder that this is a non-smoking environment and if you choose to consume any food or drink on the journey, please take all rubbish with you when you leave. Our next stop is Port Pirie.’

  At the mention of food, Madeleine’s stomach turned a little. She tried to distract herself by talking to Abigail again. ‘You must be excited about getting back to London. I still can’t believe you didn’t bring your violin.’

  ‘I don’t know what I was thinking,’ Abigail admitted. ‘I cannot wait to play. Do you ever go see concerts in Baltimore?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ Madeleine said. ‘Although probably not the type you mean. There’s a little bar not far from the hospital that has live bands on Friday nights. Sometimes a few of us go there for after-work drinks and end up staying until the early hours of the morning, when we’re not on call of course.’

  The two of them talked music and bands for a little while longer but halfway to Port Pirie, Madeleine’s travel sickness arrived with a vengeance. It was all she could do for the rest of the journey to stop from throwing up, which made conversation impossible. Abigail played with her phone and finally, after what seemed like the longest bus ride in the history of bus rides, they arrived at Adelaide Airport.