She looked down at the discoloured snapshots she’d kept hidden for almost a third of her life. This was what it came down to. This was the reason for the lies and the deceit which spun the web so tightly around her it was almost suffocating.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she began to clear away, a new vigour returning as the decision was finally made. She had spent too many years in the shadows. It was time to walk in the sun again.
*
Sophie stood in the bedroom, bags packed and ready at her feet. The soft, rolling croon of the magpies and the piercing sweetness of the bellbirds’ ring echoed over the land as the shadows were chased away by the sun. And in the extraordinary light unique to the outback, the pale delicate leaves of the eucalyptus trees became a soft haze above the rough brown of their bark and the glare of silver grass.
She sighed. She would miss the sound of the birds in the early morning, miss the smell of the warm earth and ripening grapes, and the cool blue shadows of the encompassing hills and dark green vines. But most of all she would miss this happy, boisterous family. Jay was a lucky man to be surrounded by such love.
She turned from the window. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself. She had been the one to reject his advances – the one to mistrust his intentions – the one too cowardly to make the first move towards a proper reconciliation. Snatching up the bags, she slammed out of the door. Silly bloody cow, she thought crossly. Why do you have to take everything so damn’ seriously?
The kitchen was quiet for once, with Beatty mucking out the stables and the men busy preparing the terraces for the new season of planting and growing. Wal was smoking his morning pipe on the verandah, if the squeak of the rocking chair was anything to go by, and there was no sign of Cordelia. Sophie realised suddenly she hadn’t had a smoke for most of the time she’d been here. Crispin was right – she didn’t need it any more. With that enlightening thought, she helped herself to a mug of tea from the ever-present pot and, after tasting it, added sugar. It was stewed and very bitter but it woke her up.
Cordelia shuffled into the room and stood by the table, leaning heavily on her sticks. ‘Good party, wasn’t it?’ she said with a sigh. ‘Reckon it’ll be me last, though. Getting too old for all those late nights.’
‘You’ve got plenty of time to rest, Gran,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘and I promise I’ll come down and visit as often as I can.’
Cordelia grimaced and sat down. ‘I’ll be a long time dead,’ she snapped. ‘So don’t put me in a box until I’ve breathed me last. I’m coming back to Melbourne with you. I’ve warned the others.’
Sophie gave an exasperated sigh. She’d known this would happen. Gran had been far too compliant when it was first suggested she should remain at Coolabah Crossing. ‘The doctor advises against it,’ she said firmly. ‘You can keep in touch by phone during the meeting or give me your proxy vote.’
Cordelia waved her hand dismissively. ‘Not bloody likely. I want to see their faces when I tell them what’s planned for Jacaranda. Can’t do that over a bloody phone,’ she said contemptuously.
‘Gran, you have to listen to advice for once,’ Sophie insisted. ‘You’ve got low blood pressure and angina. It could be dangerous to fly in your condition.’
The pale eyes regarded her solemnly. ‘I would agree with you if I was going to flap my arms and take off from the top of that hill, but as it’s metal and engineering doing all the work, I think I’m capable of sitting about for a few hours doing nothing.’
Sophie struggled to keep her exasperation under check. ‘You don’t need to be there. Give me the package you and the others have put together and I’ll read it up on the plane. I’m perfectly capable of arguing your corner.’
‘You don’t think I’m going to trust anyone else to run things properly, do you? she barked. ‘I’ve been a member of that board since I was twenty-seven and never missed a meeting. I’m not about to change the habit of a lifetime.’
Sophie was fighting a losing battle. ‘What happens if you die in the attempt, Gran? Who’s going to keep an eye on us then?’
Cordelia folded her arms and glared back. ‘I’ve made contingency plans,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, get me my breakfast and stop whingeing. I need to keep my strength up for the journey and we’re wasting time.’
Sophie did as she was told. When a plate of scrambled egg and toast was put in front of her grandmother, she sat and sipped coffee and waited for her to plough through it. The angina attack hadn’t even dented the old girl’s appetite, she noticed with a wry grin.
‘I was reading about the curse on the Fullers and the Tanners,’ she began.
‘Curses only work when you believe in them,’ muttered Cordelia through a bite of toast.
‘It must have seemed very real to John and Rose for them to react the way they did.’
‘Things were different back in those days. Superstition was high, and you’ve got to remember, Rose was Irish and John Romany. Both cultures believe very strongly in spells and curses.’
‘So Muriel’s baby was born safe and sound?’
Cordelia wiped her mouth on a napkin and leaned back in her chair. ‘She had a strawberry birth mark on her thigh – but that had little to do with curses and spells, and every baby since has been hale and healthy.’ She gave a smile, her eyes almost dancing with mischief. ‘So if you and Jay should decide to do something about the way you feel for each other, there’s nothing to stop you.’
‘Only time and distance,’ Sophie murmured. ‘We’ve left it too late.’
*
Cordelia helped herself to another piece of toast and dipped it into the milky coffee. The thick, creamy drink helped liven her a little, and as she munched the soggy toast, she thought over her plans for the board meeting.
With a sly smile, she wondered how the others would react when she sprang her surprise. It was fun to be in charge again – scheming kept her alive.
Having made the best of her breakfast, she hobbled to the back verandah. ‘I’m going soon, Wal. Thought it best to say goodbye in private,’ she said gruffly.
He stood up, the rocking chair tilting as he knocked against it. His arms went round her shoulders as he pulled her close and kissed her brow. ‘Goodbye, old girl,’ he murmured softly. ‘Reckon we won’t see each other again – not in this lifetime anyways. But I’m glad we had these last few weeks together.’
She held him close, remembering the wasted years, the times when she’d wept for what she’d lost. ‘Goodbye, Wal,’ she whispered. ‘Thanks for giving a silly old woman a chance to turn things around. I wish …’
His grip tightened. ‘No, Cordy. Never wish for more than we’ve had, ’cos it was the best we could do in the circumstances.’
She finally drew away from him. Looked into the dark eyes that were faded by the years and too much sun. Saw the creased brow, the blurred features of old age and knew she would love him to the end. ‘I’m going to miss you, you bloody old reprobate,’ she said through the tears.
He kissed her cheek, his grizzled chin like a rasp. ‘Nah, Cordy. We have each other in our hearts, luv. That’ll see us through till we meet again.’
‘You reckon there’s something after all this?’ she asked in surprise. Wal had never been a religious man.
‘Too bloody right,’ he answered firmly. ‘Otherwise we’ve all been wasting our bloody time.’
Cordelia gave him a hug and returned to the house. She had nothing else to say to him he didn’t already know – there was no point in prolonging the agony. Yet, as she slumped on the bed, she felt the anguish rise in her and had to muffle bitter tears in the pillow.
*
Sophie wandered out to the stables in the hope Jay was helping his mother. She hadn’t seen him since the vintage party and had a nasty suspicion he was avoiding her.
Beatty was mucking out Jupiter’s box and welcomed Sophie’s offer of help. As they cleared the night’s bedding and replaced it with fresh straw, she kept up a stream o
f inconsequential chatter about people and places that meant nothing to Sophie but were a means of filling an awkward silence.
‘Where’s Jay?’ Sophie asked finally when there was a break in Beatty’s prattle.
She looked back as she filled the buckets from the tap. ‘Gone up country,’ she replied. ‘John Jay needed something done and Jay volunteered.’
Sophie turned away, hoping Beatty wouldn’t notice the disappointment in her eyes. But she hadn’t been quick enough.
‘He didn’t want to be where he wasn’t wanted,’ Beatty said without rancour. ‘So he thought it best to stay out the way until you left.’
‘But I did want to see him,’ Sophie protested. ‘There are things I need to sort out, things I should explain. I was real crook to him last time we spoke and I wanted to apologise.’
Beatty’s gaze was very direct. ‘Strikes me you’ve had time enough already. Jay told me he’s approached you more than once but you brushed him off.’ She sighed as she placed the buckets in the stalls. ‘There’s only so much a man’s pride can take, Sophie. Jay loved you very much once. I reckon you didn’t give him a fair go then and you aren’t now.’
Sophie was unable to speak for the tears in her throat.
Beatty grasped her shoulder. ‘If things are meant, then they’ll work out,’ she said calmly. ‘Be patient – don’t give up on him yet.’
*
The small plane took off and Cordelia looked down on Coolabah for the last time. ‘Goodbye,’ she whispered, her fingers resting on the window.
The waving figures below grew smaller and smaller as they faded into the distance. Cordelia finally rested back in her seat and closed her eyes. She would carry the scent and the sight of that beautiful corner of Australia with her to the end. Would remember the people, the way the magpies woke her in the morning, and the squeak of Wal’s chair on the wooden verandah. But most of all she would remember the scratch of a stubbled chin on her cheek and the slow drawl of the man she had secretly loved for most of her life.
A twinge of pain shot through her chest, making her gasp, leaving her breathless. Surreptitiously she popped one of the doctor’s pills under her tongue and waited for it to ease. The young bludger was right, she thought grimly. I feel terrible. But I’m determined to make that meeting tomorrow. Determined to leave my mark on Jacaranda Vines before it’s too late.
*
Jane had waited nervously all afternoon. She had only a vague idea of their time of arrival and hoped she’d thought of everything. The apartment had been cleaned and there were bunches of sweet-smelling lilies in the vases. Tea was laid out on the dining table. Cordelia’s bed had been made up with fresh sheets and a hot water bottle because Jane knew she felt cold even in the height of summer.
The key rasped in the lock and she turned towards the open door.
‘Hello, dear. Here I am, back home,’ said Cordelia brightly.
Jane tried to disguise her shock as they hugged. Cordelia looked ghastly, her pallor grey, her lips blue and trembling. She would have to revise her plans – put them on hold for a while. Cordelia needed her. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve made a pot of tea.’
Cordelia hobbled slowly to her chair and collapsed with a grateful sigh. ‘The apartment looks lovely, Jane. As always, you’ve made me feel special.’
Jane blushed, knowing what she’d planned – and feeling disloyal.
Cordelia took the cup and saucer. She looked up at Jane, her eyes bright with curiosity. ‘What’s on your mind? Come on, spit it out.’
Jane was flustered. She might have known Cordelia would miss nothing, but she hadn’t expected this so soon. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said hastily, ‘Now isn’t the time.’
‘I always know when something’s bothering you, Jane. You get that shifty look.’
Cordelia was not to be side-tracked and Jane knew she would worry at it until she was forced to tell her. ‘I’m moving out,’ she began. ‘You’ve had me crowding you for too long. It’s time I stood on my own and did something with my life.’
‘What’s brought this on?’ demanded Cordelia.
Jane made a helpless gesture with her hands before clasping them together. ‘I’ve never been a part of this family – not really. I’ve had no voice, no part to play, and although it might sound silly coming from a woman of my age, I need to feel wanted. Need to know I can achieve a semblance of self-sufficiency before it’s too late.’
She took a deep breath and rushed on before Cordelia could interrupt. ‘There’s an apartment going over by the gallery and I’ve been accepted for Chair of the Arts Council. It’s a chance to do something with what’s become an empty life, Cordelia, and although I shall miss you terribly, it’s time I moved on.’
Cordelia sighed. ‘Don’t be too hasty, Jane. I shan’t be here much longer myself, and I was hoping to leave this apartment to you in the knowledge you would care for it and regard it as home. It’s the least I owe you for all you’ve done for me in the past.’
Jane sat down, surprise making her legs weak. ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ she protested. ‘It’s what you’ve done for me I can never repay. When I think …’
Cordelia cut her off in mid-sentence. ‘Not now dear. We’ll talk about it tomorrow when I’ve had a good night’s sleep.’ She dug in her handbag and brought out a large brown envelope. ‘This is something that will give you a voice, Jane. You deserve it, and I hope you use it wisely.’
Jane frowned as she took the envelope. After turning it over in her hand, she broke the seal and pulled out the pieces of paper inside. ‘You can’t do this,’ she gasped when she saw what Cordelia had given her. ‘I have no right – no right at all.’
‘You have every right,’ Cordelia said firmly. ‘It’s your voice, your turn to make your mark. Don’t disappoint me Jane. I’m counting on you.’
22
The boardroom doors were open. As the two women approached they could hear the buzz of conversation and the clink of cups and saucers.
‘Sounds like a full house,’ muttered Cordelia. ‘Are you ready for this?’
Jane nodded. with one guiding hand hovering at Cordelia’s elbow, she stepped into the room and was greeted by nine pairs of startled eyes.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Mary demanded.
‘I might ask the same of you,’ retorted Cordelia. ‘What do you think you were doing, running off like that without telling anyone where you were? You should be ashamed of yourself.’
Mary lit a cigarette. She’d obviously been drinking, and her hand shook. ‘None of your bloody business,’ she snapped. She glared at Jane through the smoke. ‘That woman has no right here. She can’t vote and isn’t a family member.’
‘Jane has as much right as any of us,’ Cordelia said mildly. ‘I gave her some of my shares.’
There was a stunned silence.
‘That’s our inheritance,’ spat Mary. ‘You can’t just give it away to that – that – tart!’
Cordelia noticed how Sophie put a hand on her mother’s arm to placate her. It had little effect, for Mary shrugged it off, her colour high, her mouth a thin angry line.
‘They’re my shares and I’ll do what I want with them,’ she retorted. ‘Mind your own business, Mary, and if you can’t keep your temper, I suggest you shut up.’ Cordelia ignored the howl of protest, gave Jane a look of support and made her way to the end of the table. The meeting had started badly. How on earth would they react as things moved on? Yet, strangely, she was almost looking forward to it.
Edward finished his coffee and waited for the others to take their places. Cordelia took the chance to greet her daughters and watch as they all settled around the table. It was interesting to note none of them commented on the extra chairs.
Charles was in a wheelchair, propped up with cushions to ease his breathing, but his colour was good, and apart from a slight tremor in his right hand, Cordelia thought he appeared to be recovering well. Her gaze turned to the twins
, Michael and James. She had read the reports from Jacaranda late last night when she couldn’t sleep. The vintage had been good in the Barossa too, and the twins seemed happy as they quietly talked together to the exclusion of the others. Philip looked like a cat who’d swallowed the saucer as well as the cream. And Mary …? She’d have been better if she hadn’t had a drink so early in the day and wasn’t glowering.
She smiled at Daisy, seeing the bright young girl once again in those intelligent eyes and the self-confident way she carried herself. Gone were the matronly glasses, there was a new hair-cut and smart clothes as well as manicured nails and a hint of make-up. Perhaps Daisy had finally found herself, not before time – but Cordelia hoped nothing would happen at this meeting to destroy what she suspected was a fragile confidence.
Kate, she thought fondly as her gaze settled on her eldest daughter. Still acerbic, still calling a spade a shovel, still smoking. There was a light in her eyes too, and colour in her face, and Cordelia joyfully realised her daughter was in love. Good luck to her, she thought. About time my Kate had someone again. She might think she’s independent, but there’s a soft centre to that girl and she needs a man in her life.
Edward cut through the conversation. ‘We all know why we’re here so I won’t bore you with it again. Would someone please close the door?’
‘Leave it where it is,’ Cordelia demanded. ‘Not everyone’s here.’
Edward frowned. ‘What are you talking about, Cordy? There’s no one else to come.’
She smiled with deliberate sweetness. ‘There is,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Here they are now.’
All eyes turned to the door as John Jay entered, closely followed by Beatty and their eldest son. ‘G’day,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Sorry we’re late, but the bloody plane wouldn’t start and we had to wait for spares to come up from Sydney.’
‘Who the hell are they?’ demanded Mary. ‘This is a circus. First the freak then the clowns. What are you up to, Mother?’
Jacaranda Vines Page 37
