The Patterson Girls

by Rachael Johns

  ‘I’m so glad you accepted Hugo’s offer,’ Celia said, putting her glass down. ‘I couldn’t stand the thought of you having to meet any more of those awful men. Having a baby should be an enjoyable experience. And although this isn’t the traditional scenario, you should be able to look your child in the eyes and tell him that you actually liked their father.’

  Oh, yes, she liked him all right. Unable to speak, she simply nodded and took another sip of her club soda.

  Celia didn’t appear to notice her discomfort. ‘When do you think you’ll be able to start? Have you had any thoughts about names?’

  ‘Um … well,’ Madeleine tried to get her head around Celia’s questions. It felt odd to be discussing such things with her, but then again, if it wasn’t for Celia she’d probably have spent the evening going back for another trawl through the known donor website. She shuddered at the thought and told herself that if Hugo’s fiancée could handle this weirdness, then so could she. Celia was the one who’d have to watch her grow bigger and bigger, knowing she was carrying Hugo’s child.

  But the bottom line was she thought Celia was probably the better person, definitely a nicer one, and it was kind of odd she didn’t want to have children of her own.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘Good news.’

  Lucinda’s heart was pounding so loud and fast she could feel it in her throat. Joe reached over from his seat beside her in the specialist’s office and took hold of her hand.

  ‘The results of all your tests are now back,’ continued Dr Randall, smiling, ‘and I’m pleased to tell you we found no abnormalities with either of you. Joe, your sperm are great little swimmers and the tests show plenty of them.’

  ‘Bonza.’ Joe grinned at Lucinda as if the doctor had just given him the gold medal in a masculinity contest.

  ‘Hang on a second.’ Lucinda snatched her hand from his and leaned forward in her chair, convinced she must have heard wrong. ‘What about me? Surely you must have found something?’

  ‘Nope, you’re in perfect health too.’ Dr Randall beamed and then glanced at her watch as if she had more important patients—people with actual problems—to get to. ‘Your general health is impeccable and your follicle stimulating hormones, luteinising hormones and estradiol levels are great too. You’re ovulating regularly.’

  Although Dr Randall went on a little longer, listing all the ways in which she was perfectly normal and healthy, Lucinda zoned out. She was in shock.

  Joe had experienced a few minutes of awkwardness when he’d had to wank into a jar and drive his sperm across town to the pathology lab, but she’d been subjected to all manner of dignity-robbing tests over the last few weeks. And for what?

  There’d been blood tests to check general health and evaluate her hormone levels. Something called an HSG, which although relatively minor had involved time off work and a day stay in hospital. She’d had to wear a gown and had her legs put up in stirrups while the doctor inserted a catheter to inject dye into her fallopian tubes to check for blockages. This was done in correlation with an ultrasound and she’d watched the dye move through her tubes and across the screen as if she were watching someone else’s medical procedure on TV. She’d always imagined her first ultrasound would be of her and Joe’s baby, yet instead of trying to identify arms and legs and little gender-defining bits, she’d been trying to make sense of her insides.

  It had all looked pretty clear, pretty normal, to Lucinda. But then again, she wasn’t a doctor and she guessed they’d be able to see things she couldn’t. She’d been dead certain that either she or Joe or maybe even both of them had a fertility problem, so this supposedly good news felt like a semi-trailer had slammed right into her, then reversed and gone at her again.

  Because problems had solutions, but if nobody knew what the problem was, then how the hell were they supposed to fix it?

  She’d been ready for a bad result, expecting the tests to show she ovulated irregularly or something like that. She’d read oodles of books and personal experiences on websites by women who’d had to take drugs to assist their ovulation and had fully expected this would be her. She’d been prepared for the moodiness, nausea, headaches, fatigue and all the medical hoops they’d have to jump through to get pregnant. She’d even warned Joe, but she hadn’t been prepared for this.

  Lucinda held up a hand, begging Dr Randall to stop. Joe glared at her rudeness but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she’d be raging if one of her students’ parents ever dared do the same to her. She didn’t care that Dr Randall was an acquaintance of Madeleine’s. Someone had to have answers.

  ‘There must be some sort of mistake,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that in some cases a man’s sperm is not compatible with the conditions of a woman’s vagina. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with us.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Dr Randall said, her tone condescending. ‘I’m fairly certain in time you and Joe will conceive naturally. We’ll give you another six months and then if you’ve still not succeeded, we’ll start discussing options such as IVF.’

  ‘Six months?’ She’d be thirty-three by then. And if there was nothing wrong with them, why wasn’t she bloody pregnant already? It had been two months since Joe had agreed to see a doctor and during that time his weeks at home had coincided with her peak days of ovulation. They’d bonked like wild animals, she’d lain in bed afterwards with her legs up against the wall while reading a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. They’d done everything right already. Why couldn’t Dr Randall understand?

  ‘Yes.’ The doctor nodded and pushed back her chair, standing to indicate their appointment was over. ‘But I’m fairly confident I won’t be seeing you again.’

  Damn straight, thought Lucinda, as she yanked her handbag off the floor, stood and stormed out the room, tears already prickling beneath her eyelids. She needed a doctor who listened to her, someone who would actually help.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Joe asked, storming out into the car park a few minutes later and over to where Lucinda stood leaning against their car. He must have stayed to pay the bill or maybe chat with Dr Randall; knowing Joe he’d have apologised for her rudeness.

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ She couldn’t believe him sometimes. ‘Open the car, Joe, I don’t want to discuss it here.’

  He dug the key out of his pocket and aimed it at the car like a TV remote. Lucinda yanked open the passenger door and slid into the seat, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t know whether to scream or sob.

  Joe got in beside her but he didn’t start the car. He turned to glare at her. ‘Dr Randall gave us the best possible news. Did you want her to tell you one of us was infertile?’ He spoke with his hands like a typical Italian. So many times in the past she’d found this trait endearing. Right now, it infuriated her.

  ‘Yes,’ she screamed, clenching her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. ‘Because right now nothing has changed. I wanted her to be able to fix things.’ She bit her lip, losing her battle against tears.

  ‘Aw, Luce.’ Joe sighed and then reached over and drew her into his arms. She loved those big, strong arms, had always felt safe with them wrapped around her, but right now she had to fight the urge to pull away.

  ‘There’s something wrong, Joe,’ she sniffed. ‘I don’t care what the tests show, I don’t care what Dr Randall says. I just know there is. Maybe we really are cursed.’

  ‘Cursed?’ He scoffed, pulling back and shoving the keys in the ignition. ‘Now you’re just being ridiculous.’

  Every bone in her body told her not to say anything; that with things already on tenterhooks between them, she should keep her lips zipped. But she could no longer bear this burden alone. She’d been having nightmares about the curse—dreaming about that weird old woman who’d starred in so many schoolyard stories coming into her bedroom and casting spells over the bed while she and Joe slept—and now that Dr Randall had told them there was nothing wrong,
well …

  She shook her head. ‘No, Joe. We found something when we were back home for Christmas, when we were packing up Mum’s things.’

  It must have been the tone in her voice because he turned again to look at her, letting the car idle. ‘What?’

  She sucked in a breath, already anticipating his reaction. ‘We found a wedding card that mentioned a family curse, a Patterson curse. Of course we were all curious so we asked Dad but he totally clammed up. Got weird and told us Mum hadn’t wanted us to know about it. Charlie and I respected this, but Abigail was still desperate to find out about it and well, you know Madeleine, she couldn’t have cared less until Dad told her he didn’t want her to know. Then she was like a dog on a bone. We had the motel and Dad to worry about, so I’d forgotten all about it, but Madeleine confronted Aunt Mags.’

  ‘Luce, cut to the chase.’ Joe drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Did you find out?’

  ‘Yes,’ she hissed, frustrated at the way he always rushed her. ‘Mags told Madeleine that years ago a local gyspy woman killed herself because she was in love with our great-grandfather but he married someone else. Apparently the woman’s sister blamed my great-grandmother for stealing her sister’s lover away, thus breaking her heart, so she put a curse on all the women in the family from that day forward.’

  Joe snorted and she glared at him. ‘The curse,’ she continued, ‘is that no Patterson-born female will be able to have children.’

  ‘Uh … if that was the case, how come there’s been four generations since your grandfather,’ Joe asked, rolling his eyes.

  ‘You’re not listening. The curse is on Patterson-born females, so the Patterson men can marry and have children, but any woman born into the Patterson clan is barren.’

  ‘And you believe this?’ Joe’s tone was sceptical but before she could reply, he continued. ‘Luce, if this was really worrying you, why didn’t you tell me before?’

  She sighed. ‘Because I knew you’d react like this and to be fair, I’d never have believed it either if we weren’t living it. But you heard Dr Randall—there’s nothing wrong with us, yet we’ve been trying for almost a year now to no avail. What other explanation is there?’

  Joe, who usually had an answer for everything, went quiet.

  Lucinda looked over at him and for the first time in her life felt real panic. She’d never entertained the thought that Joe would believe the curse, but what if he did? They might not have a medical issue but if the curse had real power, then their fertility problem was hers. Would the pressure from his mum get too much? Would his desire for a family grow stronger than his love for her?

  ‘Okay,’ Joe said, interrupting her thoughts ‘I’m pretty sure it’s a load of bullshit, but let’s say there is something in this curse business. There must be something we can do. Maybe we can get it reversed or something?’

  It was her turn to scoff. ‘What? Do you think we can just look up a witchdoctor on the net and ask them to make a potion or say some mumbo jumbo to make everything better?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Or we wait the few more months Dr Randall says and then if we’re still not pregnant, they’ll do IVF. I don’t reckon some ancient curse can best modern-day medicine.’

  Lucinda wasn’t so sure but his words got her thinking. Now that she knew there weren’t any medical fertility issues, she would focus her efforts on researching curses. Maybe Joe was right and something could be done. They couldn’t be the only family who’d ever had a hex on them.

  ‘I was going to suggest we go out to dinner to celebrate our results,’ Joe said, ‘but I guess you don’t think we have anything to celebrate.’

  She was about to snap that he was a quick learner, but instead bit her tongue and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not really in the mood. Let’s just get something at home.’

  They drove the short distance to Mount Lawley in silence and Lucinda wondered if Joe was still thinking about the curse or if he’d moved onto something else, like dinner or what sport might be on the TV that night.

  To his credit, although he’d wanted to go out and she hadn’t, Joe offered to make dinner, which left Lucinda to escape into their study. She switched on her laptop, typed ‘family curses’ into Google, but then decided to go straight to the horse’s mouth. Without knowing what exactly she was going to say, she picked up the phone and dialled her aunt in Port Augusta.

  ‘Good evening, Margaret Patterson speaking,’ said Mags regally, as if she were Queen Elizabeth herself.

  ‘Hi Aunt Mags, it’s Lucinda.’

  ‘Lucinda!’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘Long time no conversation. How lovely to hear from you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch lately. Life seems so crazy.’ It wasn’t exactly true. Aside from her work, she didn’t have much else other than trying to get pregnant to occupy her time—but that was all-consuming.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly. We’re all as bad as each other, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care. I think about you girls all the time. And how’s that lovely Joe?’ she asked, continuing on before Lucinda had a chance to answer. ‘I got an old friend to drive me out to Meadow Brook the other day and had a lovely lunch with Charlie and your father. I’m pleased to report he’s looking much better, and Charlie is doing wonderful things with the motel. You won’t know it next time you visit.’

  ‘That’s fabulous, Aunt Mags,’ Lucinda cut in, knowing if she didn’t her aunt could go on forever. Charlie had been sending them updates about Dad and also photos of the redecoration she and Mitch had been doing, but as happy as Lucinda was that things were going well in Meadow Brook, she had other things on her mind. ‘I wondered if you could tell me anything more about the Patterson curse?’

  There was an uncharacteristic silence on the other end of the phone line and then finally, ‘What do you want to know?’

  As much as she hated discussing her and Joe’s private woes, she needed Aunt Mags to know how important this was. ‘Joe and I have been trying to have a baby for almost a year,’ she confessed before telling her about their latest medical results. ‘I guess I’m clutching at straws but I feel so helpless and I’m beginning to wonder if there is something in the curse. How much do you know about your aunts? Did they ever try to have children?’

  Mags sighed and Lucinda could imagine her settling back in the armchair near her telephone. ‘Sarah never married. Apparently she had a sweetheart but he died in the war. But Victoria was married for a year before her husband was sent away to fight. The way she carried on about the curse, I’m pretty sure they tried to have children like you and Joe—but to no avail.’

  Lucinda sucked in a breath. ‘You never married though, did you?’

  ‘I’m going to be completely honest with you Lucinda, because I’m a big believer in knowledge equating to power, although in this situation I’m not exactly sure how.’

  Lucinda wished her aunt would stop talking in riddles and get to the point. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘In my youth, I was a little like our Charlie. It was the late sixties, early seventies and the world was all about free love, peace and doing whatever made you feel good.’

  An image of a twenty-year-old Mags wearing a miniskirt, bright flowery shirt and platform heels came into her head as she listened.

  ‘I fell desperately in love with the drummer in a band, and followed him all around Australia. We were together five years, no legal ceremonies or wedding rings—we didn’t believe in such things—but we both wanted to have children. I guess we tried like you and Joe but after years of no success, Bruce left me. I heard he got some groupie pregnant the first night they slept together.’

  Lucinda gasped, her heart breaking for her aunt. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  Mags made a clicking noise with her teeth. ‘I got over him years ago, had a good life, travelling the world, enjoying others when I felt the need but following my own way most of the time. I don’t need your pity.’
>
  ‘So, you think maybe there is something in the curse? That maybe that’s why you and Bruce never had a baby?’

  ‘I wish I had answers, my dear. It could all be a coincidence. All I can tell you is that life can be rewarding without children as well. I’ve had a good life and I have no regrets. Don’t let this situation eat at you until there’s nothing left inside you but bitterness. Joe is a wonderful man—don’t let something you don’t have ruin what you do.’

  ‘Thanks for sharing your story, Aunt Mags.’ Lucinda paused a beat, nowhere near ready to throw in the towel on trying to get pregnant. ‘And for your advice. I promise I won’t leave it so long between phone calls next time.’

  Mags chuckled. ‘Let’s not make promises, Lucinda dear. Let’s just try to do our best. I’m as guilty as the rest of you for not picking up the phone or sending an email. Are you on Facebook? My friend Marlene is trying to get me to join up.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Lucinda laughed. ‘You should. I’m not on much, but it does help you keep in contact with people you don’t see often.’

  They talked for a few more minutes and then Mags promptly ended the call, stating she had to go watch her Friday night show. Lucinda didn’t mind as she was eager to find out what Dr Google had to say about curses.

  She looked at the entries on the screen. The first was an article about ten well-known families with creepy curses, including Monaco’s royal family, the Kennedys, the Onassis family and the Guinnesses, who in addition to being Ireland’s most famous brewers of beer were also extremely unlucky.

  There were a number of rumoured origins of the Kennedy curse—some said it was caused by cursed stolen coins, others by an angry Jewish rabbi—but whatever the cause, a curse was blamed for a string of terrible events and the fact an unusual number of Kennedys had died young. The Onassis family apparently caught the curse from the Kennedys when Jackie Kennedy married Aristotle Onassis. This made Lucinda smile—as if you could catch a curse like you could a common cold. After an alarming number of accidental deaths and calamities in the Guinness family, it was decided they too were cursed, but she couldn’t find any theories about the origins of such a curse.