‘Why did you say that?’ She looked around, wondering if there was someone who looked like Evan that Olly might have connected with the photos in their house, or indeed if Evan’s spirit had somehow just materialised in this moment.
‘Gull!’ Olly cried, pointing to the seagulls cawing and chasing each other.
‘Yes, seagull.’ She had no idea if he was randomly pointing to the birds or whether he was again referencing her memories. Or maybe it was his memory; he had been there, after all, even if it was in her belly. Research showed that babies could hear sounds and even see quite a bit of light when they were in utero. Did they retain those memories too?
‘Where’s Dadda?’ she asked him, trying again. ‘Is he here?’ She held her breath, waiting.
‘Heaven,’ Olly said, and moved off to chase a gull.
She watched Olly running in circles, laughing, the grey and white birds fluttering around him. Heaven. That was what she told the boys, though she had no idea if she believed it or not. The reality was she had no idea where Evan was.
Roxy and the boys returned from their ride, smiling, the boys making jerky superhero moves with their arms and legs and loud pow-pow sounds.
‘You made it!’ Krystal said, touching Jasper’s hair.
‘That was epic!’ Jasper screeched. ‘It went so high then whoosh, so low, and I thought I’d fall out!’
‘Mum screamed,’ Austin said, his dimples lighting up his face.
‘It’s true, I did,’ Roxy confirmed, fluffing up her hair with her fingers. She was wearing a purple coat today and if she’d had a top hat to match she would have been the spitting image of a female Willy Wonka.
‘I’m hungry,’ Kyan complained. ‘Can we get something to eat?’
They ordered dagwood dogs and beer-battered chips and sat at a bright blue wooden picnic table with bench seats, the same colour as the sky, to devour their hot, greasy food.
‘Can we do the Scenic Railway next?’ Kyan asked through a mouthful of chips.
‘Let’s go for something Olly can do first,’ Roxy said, pulling out a wet wipe from her backpack and wiping Austin’s slick fingers. ‘He won’t be tall enough for the Scenic Railway,’ she said to Krystal.
‘How about we do the carousel and the Ferris wheel,’ Krystal said, ‘then you can go on the Scenic Railway and I’ll wait with Olly again.’
‘No, you should definitely go on the Railway,’ Roxy said. ‘I’ll wait with Olly. You have to do at least one ride.’
‘I’m doing two,’ Krystal objected.
‘The carousel and Ferris wheel don’t count!’ Roxy teased.
Krystal shoved a piece of batter into her mouth. She rushed to finish before the boys pulled them away again. ‘This is perfect hangover food,’ she muttered.
Roxy continued to chew but raised an eyebrow, questioning. She’d never seen Krystal with a hangover.
‘I know, I know,’ Krystal said, taking a sip of water. ‘But after the day I had yesterday, can you blame me?’ She’d been so wrung out after her conversation with Gabby. Far from answering her questions and making her feel better about everything, knowing that Gabby could see Evan’s memories had only stirred up a hornet’s nest of questions. She couldn’t sleep, so she’d found a way to calm down.
‘No, I can’t blame you at all. It’s like you’re living out a movie script or something.’
The boys finished their food and jumped to their feet, pulling Krystal and Roxy with them. On the carousel, Krystal and Roxy sat next to each other, Krystal on a white horse, Roxy on a black one, the horses’ heads tossed high, manes adorned with colourful flowers, legs prancing in midair. As Krystal’s horse went up, Roxy’s went down. The boys were in front of them where they could see them. Kyan, big for his eight years, had grumbled about having to go on the baby ride and looked suitably bored, but the other three laughed.
‘What do you think is the appropriate food and beverage to offer someone when they come to your house to try to access your dead husband’s memories?’ Krystal said.
‘Oh, good question. Let’s see … maybe something with a pinch of toad and an eye of newt? Something from a cauldron, obviously.’
Krystal smirked and gripped tightly to the golden pole in front of her, not because she was afraid of falling but simply to give herself somewhere to focus her anxious energy.
‘Sorry, I’ll be serious. Maybe just some tea and biscuits? Keep it simple. You’ll be stressed enough as it is, I should imagine.’
‘True.’ What if Gabby saw something really awful, something Krystal later wished she’d never known?
‘I know this is a delicate question,’ Roxy said, as quietly as she could given the noise around them. She leaned over from her horse towards Krystal. ‘But does Gabby know you never actually wanted to donate Evan’s heart?’ Her brow was worried into wavy wrinkles.
‘No, I can’t tell her. That would be just …’
‘Horrible – for her, I mean. Obviously you had your reasons,’ Roxy added quickly.
‘Yes.’ Krystal had shared with Roxy a little of that time in ICU in Sydney, but she’d never told anyone the full story. ‘Aside from that, how likely would she be to want to help me then?’
‘Not very, I would think.’
Roxy’s horse rose, Krystal’s descended.
‘None of this is her fault,’ Krystal admitted. ‘It’s mine.’
17
On Saturday afternoon, Gabby finished the almond-milk golden turmeric latte that Kyle had made for her, chewing thoughtfully on a couple of tiny bits of ginger and enjoying the warming spices as they settled in her belly. She needed to speak to Cam but he’d been ignoring her calls. She went to the storeroom and called him from The Tin Man’s phone instead. To her surprise he answered, which made her simultaneously relieved and furious, knowing that the only reason he’d picked up the phone was because it wasn’t her name that had shown up on the screen.
‘Hi, Cam, it’s Gabby.’
There was a short pause before he rallied. ‘Hi, how’s it going?’
How was it going? He was avoiding their kids; how did he think it was going?
‘I know you’re … having time off,’ she said carefully, pacing between the hessian bags, trying hard not to let her fury push him away. Now that she had him on the phone, she didn’t want to lose him. ‘But I was hoping we could talk about Charlie’s birthday.’
‘Oh, right,’ Cam said, as if he’d forgotten all about it.
Gabby could hear Mykahla screaming in the background and cringed. It was never a good time to try to talk to a parent with a crying baby nearby. But she pressed on. She had to. ‘We’re doing our usual birthday breakfast thing and I’m hoping you and Meri and Mykahla will come over too,’ she said brightly. ‘It would mean a lot to Charlie.’ She was completely prepared to guilt-trip him if she had to.
More wailing from Mykahla and shushing noises from Meri. Cam covered the phone a moment and said something to Meri, then came back on the line. ‘Can I call you back in a minute?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Cam, you’ve been avoiding my calls, I’ve had no real answer from you as to why you aren’t seeing the kids, they have no idea what’s going on, and you left it up to me to tell them and defend you when I don’t know what’s got into you.’ She lost her cool. ‘You have four children. Four. Yes, I can hear that your youngest is challenging right now, but the other three need you too. You can’t just abandon them.’
He was silent in return and she wanted to pick up a white coffee cup from the bench in front of her and fling it at the storeroom wall.
‘For fuck’s sake, Cam, they need you, and I need you too. I need to know you’re still in this. You may have forgotten this in your sleep deprivation and stoned fug, but I have a seriously reduced life expectancy and I need to know you are here for our kids.’
‘I can’t do this now,’ he said, angry.
‘When, then? When can we talk about this? And will you be there tomorrow, for Char
lie? Can you at least do that?’
Cam sighed and she imagined he was rubbing his hand through his hair in frustration. ‘I’ll try,’ he said, and hung up.
‘Is he coming?’ Pippa whispered, hugging Gabby while looking around for the birthday boy.
‘He’d better be,’ Gabby muttered. ‘I’ve messaged him enough times.’ She’d even messaged Meri, something that was tacitly understood to be a breach of boundaries, but she really needed Cam to show up for their son this morning. She released Pippa and bent to hug all four of Pippa’s kids, who were complaining loudly about how hungry they were. ‘Go on through. Grandpa’s got the pancakes on already.’
She ushered them down the hall and into the kitchen, where colourful streamers and balloons swung from the windows and cupboards. She’d stayed up late last night until after she was sure Charlie was asleep so she could surprise him with them when he woke.
‘Happy birthday!’ the kids screeched, hugging Charlie one at a time, even Hunter, who, at fourteen, might have chosen to play it cool. Gabby exchanged a sentimental look with Pippa, both of them proud their teenage sons were still happy to hug their cousins.
‘How are my favourite grandchildren?’ Monty boomed while flipping pancakes.
‘Hey!’ Summer and Celia protested.
‘Oops, sorry! I forgot about you lot,’ Monty joked, winking at them.
The kitchen bench had turned into an overflowing breakfast bar, with stacks of plates and cutlery, orange juice, batch-brew coffee, baskets of sweet pastries and plates of toppings for the pancakes – berries, bacon, lemon juice, sugar, syrup, chocolate chips, banana slices, yoghurt and even a tub of ice cream.
Come on, Cam.
As if reading her mind, Charlie looked up from a gift he was unwrapping – a new shirt from Pippa – and caught Gabby’s eye, then glanced over to the clock on the oven. He looked back at her and she gave him a sympathetic smile.
‘Right, let’s eat,’ Monty said. Wearing his fancy navy and white tartan apron that Lottie had given him one Christmas, he stood tall and proud, loving the role of cooking for his family. He delivered a mound of fluffy pancakes to the benchtop and everyone lined up to serve themselves. There were too many of them to all sit together so they sat at bar stools at the bench, at the dining table, and some kids spilled outside to eat alfresco in the still chilly morning air.
Gabby and Pippa sat at one end of the dining table, while Monty sat at the other, regaling smaller McPhees with a tale of him and Lottie eating pastries in Paris while pampered dogs sat in chairs at another table with their own plate of food. Celia dropped hunks of pancake to the floor for Sally to gobble up, not even bothering to try to hide it. Gabby sighed. That dog – that ten-thousand-dollar dog – had come with a strict rulebook so the family didn’t break her, but everyone had long since given up any pretence of being strict enough to enforce it.
‘What’s Harvey doing this morning?’ Gabby asked quietly, cutting into her pancakes covered in maple syrup, ice cream and chocolate pieces.
Pippa swallowed a mouthful of berries and ice cream and rolled her eyes. ‘He’s gone fishing.’
‘Fishing? Since when does he fish?’
‘As of today, apparently. Some guy from work invited him to go out on his boat.’ Pippa adjusted the cream chiffon scarf at her neck. ‘We had a fight last night,’ she whispered. ‘He slept on the couch.’
Gabby winced and took a sip of her affogato.
‘We’ve turned each other into the worst versions of ourselves,’ Pippa said, her voice breaking on the last word before she shoved a forkful of pancake into her mouth.
Gabby patted her knee under the table.
‘Any words of wisdom for break-ups?’ Pippa asked.
Gabby almost choked on her coffee. ‘I’m probably not the best person to ask right now.’ Grimly, she looked over at the clock, each minute that slid by with no sign of Cam another moment of shared anguish with Charlie. The birthday boy came in from outside for another helping of pancakes and Gabby took the opportunity to leap from her seat and hurry to her room to pull out her surprise.
She returned to the kitchen carrying an enormous and rather ghastly yellow hat with red and green trimmings and red fluffy pom-poms that hung down around the brim.
‘What is that?’ Charlie asked, with a mouth full of bacon.
‘This is the new family birthday tradition,’ Gabby said. ‘It’s the birthday sombrero!’ She guided him to a bar stool while the others cheered and laughed. The gaudy hat really didn’t do much to enhance his red hair, red flushed cheeks and freckles. But, of course, the hat wasn’t there to make him look good; it was there to be ridiculous. A dose of frivolity could only be a good thing for her kids right now. She tightened the string under his neck.
‘Don’t you dare take photos,’ he grumbled.
‘Too late!’ Pippa sang out. ‘I’m already posting them to Instagram.’
‘What are you doing to me? I have a reputation, you know. This is so messed up,’ he said, though Gabby could tell he was happy beneath the complaint. At least, she hoped he was, just a little bit.
Gabby lit a sparkler and handed it to him to hold while they all sang a raucous, off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. Charlie tried to look unimpressed but she knew he was soaking it in. They ended with a big cheer and applause, and Hunter found some Mexican music online and set it to play on his phone, leading to an eruption of the Mexican hat dance. Even Monty had a go, though he didn’t swing himself vigorously around his partner like the others did, but tiptoe-jogged instead. At the end of that, they cheered some more.
Everyone was in high spirits when Celia’s voice broke in. ‘Where’s Dad?’
The chatter and laughter fell away.
Gabby rubbed Celia’s back and kissed the top of her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. She was tempted to fill the silence with platitudes like I’m sure he’s still coming or I’m sure there’s a really good explanation, but the truth was she had no idea. It was unforgivable. Gabby’s eyes slid sideways to Charlie, who pulled off his sombrero and handed it to Pippa’s youngest, who wanted to try it on. His shoulders slumped dejectedly. She gave him an apologetic look and he shrugged it away, but she could see that the little boy inside his elongating body was wounded.
‘Eat some more,’ she said now, handing him the plate he’d earlier been loading up with second helpings.
He took it from her. ‘Thanks.’
‘Have you finalised your elective choices?’ she asked, as nonchalantly as possible. Tomorrow was the day for him to return his preferences for senior subjects next year. It was another reason she’d been hoping Cam would turn up, so Charlie could make his final announcement to them both.
He nodded and chewed. She waited for more information. Monty was now wearing the sombrero and sidled closer, also waiting.
Charlie smacked his lips, swilled some juice, then said, ‘I’ve decided to do theatre, art, music, physical education, the easy maths and English. I realised I had my thinking all wrong. I need to utilise my creative strengths.’ He picked up his cup and gulped coffee.
‘Well,’ Gabby said, ‘that sounds great.’
What?!
Charlie had been struggling with the choices and felt such pressure to get them right, but this was the first she’d heard about art, music and theatre. ‘Creativity’ and ‘Charlie’ were not words she would use in the same sentence, with the possible exception of his latte art. Still, she couldn’t challenge his decisions here, on his birthday, not when his dad had just stood him up, and especially not while her father was wearing a sombrero. No one could have a serious conversation while someone was wearing a sombrero.
‘Physical education sounds good,’ Monty said encouragingly. ‘Does it include swimming?’ Gabby could tell he was trying to be tactfully supportive by singling out the subject in which Charlie had demonstrated interest and talent.
‘Yep.’
Gabby exchanged a slightly alarmed look with her d
ad. In her previous conversations with Charlie about his studies, he’d talked about taking practical subjects that would help him in future business endeavours – like Accounting, Chinese as a second language, and Economics. He wasn’t much into sciences or abstract maths. He had practical intelligence, like her. All her embarrassing dreams of teaching her son how to run a business with the hope of his taking over The Tin Man one day had just fallen in tatters at her feet, replaced with visions of him singing and dancing in suburban theatres. She wanted Charlie to pursue his passions, of course. But she had assumed he would follow in the McPhee footsteps and go into business. It turned out she was a horribly clichéd parent after all. An awkward silence drifted between them.
‘Mum,’ Summer said at last, her dimples flashing as she licked her fork clean. ‘He’s joking.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gabby said, flooded with relief but trying to hide it.
‘Gotcha,’ Charlie said, with a small smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’m still doing all the business subjects we talked about.’
‘Oh, I knew that,’ she said unconvincingly, ashamed she’d been caught out not supporting his dreams … even if they were fake dreams. Cheeky bugger.
After Pippa and her kids had left and Charlie had headed off to a mate’s place for the afternoon, Gabby grabbed her car keys. Fuelled by maternal rage, she drove straight to Cam and Meri’s place, half an hour’s drive east. They lived in a partially renovated, rendered-brick house, with a newish kitchen but a horrendous bathroom. The bedrooms for the kids were small but functional and a strip of backyard offered some lawn where they could sun themselves.
Gabby arrived in the early afternoon, determined to thrash things out with Cam. She opened the gate and it swung back out of her hands and clattered into the catch. She hurried up the path and knocked on the old wood door.
The Gift of Life Page 16
