Family Baggage

by Monica McInerney

  Gloria had given it to her. She had come into the Turner Travel office late one night, a month after Harriet had discharged herself from hospital. She’d found Harriet at her desk, not working, just staring at the screen, her eyes filled with tears. Gloria had said nothing at first, just come over and taken her in her arms, holding her tight.

  ‘What is it, lovie?’ she’d asked. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I can’t do it, Gloria. James asked me again if I could lead one of the tours and I told him I’d think about it, but I know I can’t do it. I’m going to have to tell him tomorrow. I’ll have to leave. Resign. It’s not fair on everyone else – him, Melissa, Lara, you.’

  ‘It’s a family business, lovie. I don’t think you can resign from your family.’

  ‘You know what I mean. I can’t keep asking everyone to carry me like this.’

  ‘Why can’t you? If your family can’t carry you when things are tough, then who can?’

  ‘We’re not a normal family.’

  Gloria smiled. ‘No, I’ll grant you that.’

  ‘We’re a business family, I mean. That changes everything.’

  ‘You’re a family before you’re a business. That will never change.’ Gloria glanced at the itinerary on the desk in front of her. ‘This is the one James has asked you to consider?’

  Harriet nodded.

  Gloria read through it quickly. ‘It’s one you’ve done before. Only two nights away, only ten in the group.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t be able to look after them properly, Gloria, I know I wouldn’t. All I keep seeing is things going wrong and people dying and bad things happening to everyone.’

  ‘Then it’s too soon for you and you shouldn’t go. It’s as simple as that, Harriet. There’s no rush, is there? James just asked you if you were ready, didn’t he? He didn’t put any pressure on you?’ She looked closely. ‘Don’t tell me. Melissa is putting pressure on you.’

  ‘Melissa’s thinking about the business, I know. And she is trying to be kind …’

  ‘Kind? Perhaps, though I’m not sure she knows what the word means.’

  ‘But she’s right. I have got ground to make up. I know I ruined that group’s holiday. Embarrassed the company—’

  ‘You did not embarrass the company. And Melissa is out of line telling you you ruined that group’s holiday.’ She held up her hand. ‘No, perhaps she didn’t say it in so many words, but I know what she’s inferred. I’ve got a large pair of flapping ears, remember. Harriet, you probably made those people’s holiday. Think of the stories they’ve been able to tell. It’s not every day a tour guide—’

  ‘Cracks up?’

  ‘Has a breakdown. Don’t make it sound worse than it was. You had anxiety attacks and then you had a breakdown. Harriet, you have to be more gentle on yourself. You have been through a bad time. Losing one parent is hard; losing both within weeks of each other is even more traumatic, especially the way it happened for you. Of course you had to react to it.’

  Just the mention of it … ‘I miss them so much, Gloria. Everywhere I look, everything I think about —’

  ‘I know you do, lovie. We all do. But that’s all right, we’re allowed to. You loved them very much. Of course you should miss them.’

  ‘But James and Austin loved them and miss them and they didn’t crack up, did they? They lost their parents too. Lara lost them. Molly lost her grandparents. You lost your oldest friends. You all miss them as much as I do.’

  ‘But there’s no rule book saying we all have to react in the same way. We’ve all been affected too. I talk to your mother the whole time, did you know that? First sign of madness, but it helps me. James has thrown himself completely into work. Austin has been touring non-stop, taking any job going, hardly been home. Lara only applied for that overseas study course after Penny and Neil died. She never even mentioned going to England before that. That’s how everyone else is coping. In their own way.’

  Harriet sat silently.

  Gloria squeezed her hand. ‘Harriet, what happened to you is completely understandable. And it doesn’t matter whether it happened in public with a tour group or alone; what you felt was what you felt. No wonder you feel scared. No wonder your world feels unsteady and scary and uncertain. But it will change, I promise.’

  ‘It won’t, though, will it? It can’t.’

  ‘No, your parents won’t come back but you won’t always feel as bad as you do now. And all the solid things you had, and all the things you were able to face before this happened won’t have changed. You are still you, underneath the fear and the panic attacks. You just need to believe in yourself again.’

  ‘I’m too scared of everything, Gloria. I feel like I’ll never be able to manage anything again.’

  ‘But you will, Harriet. Not yet but one day. I’ve known you since you were just a little girl. I’ve seen for myself all the things you know how to do. Do you want me to remind you? No, tell you what, you remind me instead.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Tell me some things you can do. Can you drive a car, for example?’

  That brought a faint smile. ‘You don’t remember teaching me? After Mum and Dad gave up?’ They’d tried to teach her and Lara the year they turned seventeen but the combination of a parent sitting beside her and a constantly stalling or kangaroo-hopping car had left Harriet helpless with giggles during each lesson. Eventually Gloria had stepped in. Harriet and Lara had managed to pass their tests on the same day.

  ‘How could I forget? The day I got my first grey hair.’ Gloria reached over the desk for a pen and paper and passed them to her. ‘Come on now. Remind me of some other things you’ve done. Write them down so you can’t forget.’

  Harriet’s mind seemed blank. ‘I can’t think of anything else.’

  ‘Well, that’s nonsense for a start. You got dressed this morning by the looks of things. Unless you’ve started sleeping in the beautiful uniform Melissa chose for us, have you?’

  Harriet smiled properly that time. ‘No, wearing it for eight hours a day is bad enough.’

  ‘Write it down, then. I can dress myself. No, not good enough? Will I help you remember some better things?’

  Harriet looked up at Gloria’s so-familiar face, her sun-worn skin, her clever eyes, her mop of grey hair. She couldn’t remember a time without Gloria. She’d come to Gloria for years, bringing news, asking questions, seeking comfort, liking being around her and her husband Kevin almost as much as her own parents. ‘You’re my extra mother, aren’t you, Gloria?’ she’d said to her once as a child. The thought sent a ripple of that grief through her again. And guilt, for calling on Gloria again. Time after time. ‘Gloria, I shouldn’t be keeping you. Kev will be worrying where you are.’

  ‘Kev knows very well that if I’m not home responding to his every whim and at his beck and call then I am here in the office. He’ll cope. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Now, don’t change the subject. Tell me something else you’ve done or know how to do.’

  Slowly Gloria coaxed a list of things out of her, with difficulty at first, and then eventually even through some laughter. They were written in no particular order, here and there over the page.

  I have worked and supported myself for more than fifteen years. I am buying my own house. I have travelled all around Australia. I have led hundreds of tour groups. I can touch type. I know how to cook Thai food, Italian food and Malaysian food, make jam, chutney, and tomato sauce. I have grown my own tomatoes, sweet corn, parsley, coriander and pumpkins. I once made dinner for ten people on a camp fire. I can drive a car and a tractor and, in an emergency, a minibus. I know how to replace a fanbelt, change a tyre and put up tents. I can row a boat. I once killed a snake. I can almost surf. I can swim thirty metres underwater. I taught my niece Molly to swim thirty metres underwater. I can say hello and how are you in German, French, Spanish, Japanese, Italian and Dutch.

  ‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ Gloria said. ‘More please. What else have y
ou done?’

  ‘I lived with Simon for four years. Is that an achievement?’

  Gloria’s lip twitched. ‘Depends on what you thought of Simon, I suppose. I liked him. So did Lara, I think.’

  ‘Then you were the only ones who did. Mum and Dad were only polite to him, I know. James barely noticed him and Austin hated him.’

  ‘Your parents thought he was a fine young man who should have asked you to marry him, not live with him. James has barely noticed anyone since he barricaded himself behind Melissa and Molly. And of course Austin hated Simon. He’s always guarded you like a hawk. You and Lara, actually. In any case, Simon was too ordinary for Austin. Too ordinary for you, too, I always thought.’

  ‘Too ordinary?’

  Gloria nodded. ‘I’m not putting him down. But he wanted less out of life than you do. And he’ll be much happier with that new girlfriend of his. You know the word is they’re about to get engaged?’

  Harriet nodded. She’d heard. All she’d felt was glad that Simon was happy again. She hadn’t had any pangs at all.

  ‘In fact, Harriet, difficult as it was for you, I’m glad you broke up with him.’

  ‘You never said that before.’

  ‘It wasn’t my place. I’m the faithful old family servant. Silent and loyal.’

  ‘Silent?’

  Gloria winked. ‘Don’t change the subject. Go on, add Simon to the list. He’s part of your life. I want you to write down all the big things you’ve done. In fact, let me remind you of another big one. You welcomed Lara into your family. You made another little girl feel wanted when she was probably feeling the way you are feeling now, scared and alone. That was a very important thing to have done and you did it. Not only shared your bedroom and your friends with her, but also shared your parents and your brothers. I was very proud of the way you did that.’

  Harriet opened her mouth as if she was about to say something and then shut it again.

  Gloria kept talking, leaning over and taking back the list. ‘I’ll write it for you. I welcomed Lara into the family. There. And that’s just for starters, Harriet. All true, and none of it has changed. You’ve done all those things. You will be able to do those things and more again.’

  Harriet tried to make light of it, embarrassed now. ‘I’d rather not kill a snake again, if it’s all the same to you. It was a bit messy.’

  Gloria smiled at her. ‘That’s fine. No snakes.’

  ‘And I don’t know if I’ll ever live with anyone again.’

  ‘No, I’d say you’ll end up on the shelf. Poor Harriet, condemned to a life as Austin’s housekeeper.’ Gloria folded the piece of paper, reached over for a small envelope and put it inside. ‘Stop that nonsense as well. You’ll meet a man when you’re good and ready and when he’s the right man for you. Now, keep that list. Use that as a reminder if you ever feel an attack coming on. It might help.’

  Harriet leaned across and gave Gloria a hug. ‘Thank you, silent and faithful family servant.’

  ‘You’re welcome, sweetheart.’

  ‘How have you put up with us all these years? Don’t you ever get Turner overload?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll let you know if I do. You’re like a spare family to me, you see. When my own three boys used to drive me crazy I pretended you lot were mine. You’ve actually been quite a comfort over the years.’

  Harriet had come in the next day with the biggest bunch of flowers she could get from the Merryn Bay florist. She hadn’t made a fuss, simply got a vase and put them on Gloria’s desk.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Melissa had said, sounding a little put out that she hadn’t been informed. ‘It’s not her birthday, is it?’

  ‘No, it’s National Thank Her for Everything Day,’ Harriet had said.

  Gloria had just smiled. ‘Any time, lovie,’ she whispered.

  Harriet read the list again now. It didn’t always work, but most of the time it did. It was like a voice of reason when everything threatened to overwhelm her. She could almost hear Gloria’s voice. ‘One more thing to add, Harriet. Go on. I led the tour group from Melbourne to Bristol via Malaysia. You did it and nothing went wrong.’ She’d rung Gloria the night James had asked her to take on the tour. She had been just as calm then. ‘Of course you can do it, Harriet. You’re more than ready.’ Gloria was right. Austin was right. She could do this tour. Nothing would go wrong. She was going to manage. All she had to do was remember all the things she’d done before: driven a bus, killed a snake, cooked over a camp fire, changed a tyre … She stopped there, and actually laughed out loud. No need to get too carried away. She was here to be a tour guide not a stuntwoman, after all.

  She put the list back into her bag and did as she had been taught to do every morning – took a chair by the window, sat herself neatly, straight backed, feet together on the floor, arms by her side, not clenched in front of her. Eyes shut, breathing slowly, deeply …

  Her eyes snapped open once, as she realised she still had to confirm the tour bus. She forced herself to close her eyes again. Back to the breathing. Keep the mind clear. Five minutes later she was ready. Only then did she ring the tour bus company. It was too early to ring the office, so she rang the emergency mobile number listed. A weary-sounding woman answered. Yes, she said, the bus was booked. Yes, the driver knew which hotel to collect them from. Yes, he was one of their most experienced drivers, Mr Clive Tillon, who had done many group tours over the years. Everything was under control. She’d just hung up when she remembered another question. She dialled the bus company again. Yes, the woman confirmed, now sounding more cranky than weary, the bus was fully equipped with a microphone, guide’s seat and video player.

  A news jingle played from the radio beside the bed, followed by a deep-voiced man announcing the news headlines from the BBC. Harriet checked her watch was telling the right time. Turner Travel rule number seven. Yes, eight-thirty. A good time to ring Patrick Shawcross in St Ives and welcome him to Cornwall. She was about to ring his hotel when she remembered she hadn’t checked the number of seats on their tour bus. She dialled the bus company’s mobile number again, confirming quickly that the bus that would be arriving shortly was a sixteen-seater. She hung up and rang the St Ives hotel next, introducing herself and asking to be put through to Mr Patrick Shawcross’s room.

  ‘Of course, Ms Turner. We’re looking forward to welcoming you and your party here later today. One moment please.’ There was silence, then the soft burr of the dial tone, over and over, until the call switched back to reception.

  ‘I’m sorry, there doesn’t seem to be any answer. Can I take a message?’

  ‘Yes, please. If you could just say I called, and that we’ll be on our way to him shortly?’

  ‘Of course, oh, excuse me,’ Harriet waited as she heard the receptionist have a brief conversation. ‘Ms Turner, my colleague spoke to him briefly this morning. She said he was on his way down to the beach. Are you sure I can’t get him to call you when he comes back?’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ she said. ‘If you could tell him everything’s fine and I’m looking forward to meeting him this afternoon.’

  Harriet didn’t think her first conversation with him should be over a mobile phone on the bus. She had a bit of explaining to do. James had told her they would fax the actor’s agency with the change of details, explaining that it would be Harriet Turner and Lara Robinson he would be travelling with, but now that had changed as well. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with him in front of the group. Not when there was every chance Mrs Lamerton would snatch the phone out of her hands and pass it around to everyone.

  She had overheard them in the minibus from the airport the evening before. They were a-twitter, there was no other word for it, at the idea of meeting Patrick Shawcross. Mrs Lamerton was making it clear she considered him her property. It had been her idea for the Willoughby tour, after all. Harriet half-expected Mrs Lamerton to have that line tattooed on her forehead or made into a T-shirt slogan. It wo
uld save her repeating it over and over again. ‘As I mentioned to Lara when I first mooted the idea of this Willoughby tour.’ ‘When we first started planning this Willoughby tour …’ She reeled off facts about Patrick Shawcross like a Mastermind contestant. ‘Born in Penzance, you know. The only son of Irish parents. That would explain those Celtic good looks,’ she’d gushed. ‘Originally wanted to be a dentist – a dentist!’ Mrs Lamerton had trilled. ‘Imagine the queues to get into that surgery!’ He’d been talent spotted in a college amateur dramatics society staging of Macbeth. Appeared in three episodes of Doctor Who. Brief marriage to Caitlin Moore, a Welsh actress, no children. Second marriage to Alicia de Vries, one stepson. He’d played the part in Willoughby for the two series before the show was axed. None of the women in the group seemed too up-to-date with him after that. They didn’t seem to care much, either. Their attention had turned to other favourite TV programs.

  ‘I always liked that Richard Briers,’ Mrs Pollard said. ‘Something kind-faced about him. He’d bring you a cup of tea in bed each morning, I bet.’

  ‘No, too easy to boss around if you ask me,’ Mrs Hart said. ‘I liked the one in Yes, Minister, what was his name? Geoffrey someone? Or was it Nigel?’

  ‘Sir Humphrey, do you mean? No, too sarcastic. And you’d never see him, all those long hours he’d have to work. Wasn’t he in another program too? You know, the one set in that hobby farm?’

  ‘No, that was Richard Briers as well, wasn’t it? With that blonde lady with the sweet voice? Felicity Kendal?’

  ‘She was voted Rear of the Year, you know.’ Mr Fidock interjected.

  Mrs Lamerton ignored him. ‘Aren’t you thinking of To the Manor Born? That was Penelope Keith, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No, that was The Good Life. What about that pretty American waitress in that one about the hotel? The one with John Cleese and Prunella Scales?’

  ‘Fawlty Towers, you mean? Harriet, will we be able to see the hotel in Torquay from Fawlty Towers? St Ives isn’t that far from Torquay, is it?’