The Falls

by Cathryn Hein

‘Then making up for it in bed.’

  Perhaps Dom found the idea appealing, but to Vanessa that sounded too much like the past. Relationships that used conflict to ignite passion were exhausting and bruising. She was a woman in her fifties, not a teenager. She wanted love, respect and comfort as well as good sex.

  ‘You’re forgetting I’ve been in relationships like that. I’ve learned that I need more than passion.’

  His gaze stayed anchored on hers. ‘And those needs are?’

  Affected by the intensity of his look, she took a sip of wine before answering. ‘Genuine love and affection. Friendship. The kind of deep caring that keeps people together long after the rest has passed its peak.’

  ‘We have friendship.’

  There was no denying that.

  ‘I care for you, Nessie. More than I think you appreciate.’ His eyes shone with reflected light and something else that made her heart thud. He dropped his voice. ‘I can give you everything, including passion.’

  ‘And when it’s past its peak?’

  ‘Who says that would ever happen?’ He rose and stood in front of her with his hand held out. ‘Come on, take a chance.’

  Night sounds gathered in and merged with her hesitant breaths. Vanessa looked at his face, then his hand and back to the handsome contours of his features. Oh, it was tempting. Though she tried to deny it, Dom made her blood run faster, her skin prickle with sexual awareness. She longed for his touch. She wanted to know what it would be like to have those palms run over her body, to feel his lips on her skin, to merge together until everything was forgotten.

  Footsteps sounded in the house. Vanessa blinked and breathed out. Her smile was shallow with relief and hidden disappointment. ‘Not tonight.’

  Dom’s arm fell to his side. ‘No, perhaps not. Another time then.’

  Except with Penny arriving tomorrow there would unlikely be another time. Three women, all troubled in their own way, all with reconciliations to forge, rattling their tensions through the one house. Chances were it was going to get bitchy.

  Another night might be a long time away.

  Teagan watched the last of the dressage-school attendees ease their cars and floats onto the main road. Training had ended hours ago, but Nick, being a good host, had put on a barbecue and drinks for those who didn’t have far to journey or wanted to stay and chat. Stacey had brought the baby out for everyone to coo at. Sausage and onion aromas laced the air along with the comforting smell of horses and stables. The chatter had been amiable, horse talk and gossip, like Teagan had once enjoyed with Em and Jas when they gathered together.

  She pushed a tangle of dusty hair off her face. God, she missed home. She missed her friends and Astra and Pinehaven. She even missed Levenham, with its familiar streets and faces, and a history and landscape she’d grown up with. The only thing she didn’t miss was the weather.

  Behind her folding chairs were being snapped shut. Little Olly went into his baby carrier. Nick glanced at her with eyebrows raised.

  Teagan sucked on her lip. Time to go.

  ‘See you Tuesday,’ she called, earning a distracted wave from Stacey and a nod from Nick. She wished she’d rejected his offer of a day off but he’d been insistent. And she was tired; bone weary, heart-achingly exhausted. From work, fretfulness and restless nights that seemed to contain more conscious hours than sleep.

  The lights of the verandah were on when she drove into Falls Farm. Moths flitted, casting shadows against the lemon-painted walls, reminding Teagan of the spots that appeared on damaged sepia-tinted cinema reels. Ness was in her favourite chair. The other was empty. The table, though, was set with an ice bucket of champagne and a bottle of Cassis. Kir royales for the Sunday cocktail ritual. Except the other two glasses on the table were empty. Only Ness had a drink.

  Her aunt rose, tone and expression pure sympathy. Ness showing she knew why Teagan was so late. ‘Darling.’

  Teagan lowered her backpack. ‘Is she here?’

  ‘Inside.’

  She stared at the screen door. Behind it, nothing moved in the house. Perhaps her mother was having a lie-down after a day spent in airports. She wondered where Penny had found the money to pay for the ticket. Stole it from Dad she hoped, although her generous aunt was the most likely source.

  Ness placed a gentle hand on Teagan’s upper arm. ‘I’m afraid she’s not in a good way.’

  ‘And I am?’ She scraped a palm down her face. She really needed to cut this victim crap. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s a difficult time for all of us.’ Moving back to the table, Ness lifted a champagne flute. ‘Drink?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a shower first. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Of course.’ She placed the flute down and crossed one arm over her chest, enfolding herself in a very un-Vanessa-like manner and blinking rapidly. ‘I’m so sorry for this. I really am.’

  ‘Oh, Ness.’ Teagan wrapped her arms around her aunt. ‘It’s okay. I know you had no choice.’ She maintained her hold, granting, if only for a brief moment, her big-hearted aunt the comfort of her understanding.

  She let go, and smiled as they both sniffed and swatted damp eyes. In her harrowed state she’d needed the hug as much as Ness had.

  ‘Go have that shower. I’ll fetch some nibblies for us all.’

  Teagan pushed inside. She eyed the closed door of the guest area’s other bedroom. Blanche sat in front of it, tail whipping across the polished timber, head tilted up in expectation.

  ‘Fairweather friend,’ she muttered, tossing the cat a dark look.

  A bump echoed. Blanche’s tail ceased its swish. As the door’s handle began to turn, Teagan dashed into her room and held her back against the closed door, breathing hard with her eyes squeezed shut. She could do this. She could. All she needed was a moment to gather herself.

  A latch clicked open and was quietly closed. Feet padded across the timber and then the screen door squealed. Good. Her mum was on the verandah. Respite would last a little longer.

  The shower washed the grime, sweat and horse stink away and made Teagan feel cleaner but not much better. Nerves rattled her body as she dressed. She wished she’d said yes to Vanessa’s offer of a drink and brought it in with her. Anything to take the edge off what would likely be an uncomfortable meeting.

  Their farewell hadn’t been pleasant. Penny had stood in the doorway of Teagan’s cottage at Pinehaven, wringing her hands, while Teagan had dumped clothes into duffle bags and thrown less robust belongings into old suitcases. Though she’d kept her mouth shut, kept all her bitter, furious words inside, Teagan had boiled with resentment and deep hurt. When she’d deigned to look at her mother, the contact was brief and furious. Blame had hung like disturbed dust, thick and choking. Not once had Penny said sorry. Not once.

  Maybe if she had Teagan wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe the bitterness would stop eating acid trails through her soul. She slumped onto the bed and stared at the wall. God, she was being unreasonable. Why should her mum apologise? She’d done nothing wrong. It was all Dad. Dad and his computer and some stupid program he’d been suckered into buying, thinking he could raise enough money to entice her brother home from New Zealand.

  How idiotic men were. Owen had found love, that’s why he was in New Zealand. Not because his new wife’s dad had a better property. But oh no, Graham Bliss had taken the selfish route, thinking it was all about the farm and money and nothing to do with his son’s heart.

  What about his daughter’s heart? What about her money? What about her dreams?

  Gone. The lot.

  Teagan buried her face in her hands. What a bastard he was. What a complete bastard. No wonder she didn’t trust anyone.

  Her thoughts ran to Lucas, the way they’d stood together at The Falls, the way he’d looked at her in his forge. The tenderness with which he’d held her yesterday evening while she’d cried. Her heart ached to believe in him, but the cynic in her smouldered and spiralled smoke whispers in her ears. If her ow
n father was capable of devastating her so calamitously, what damage could Lucas do if Teagan allowed herself to feel for him?

  Better to stay distant. From everyone.

  She took a moment to ensure her breathing was normal and her face and eyes had lost their stinging heat. Steady again, she dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and T-shirt and tied her wet hair back into a ponytail.

  Her mum made a shaky stand when she walked out onto the verandah, steadying herself on the cane chair. ‘Teagan.’

  Shock caused Teagan to still. She flicked a peek at Ness, but her aunt was pouring drinks. Admittedly, Teagan hadn’t been in a great state herself when she’d arrived at Falls Farm, but in the few weeks since she’d last seen her, Penny seemed to have disintegrated. Silver dominated the faded tones of her once red hair. The skin of her face appeared to have dropped like a fleshy landslide, stretching her jowls. Sorrow lines dug deep furrows around her mouth, and fat, bruise-coloured sacs hung under her eyes.

  The collapse continued with her posture. Her spine and shoulders were slumped, her body defeated, all care gone. Everything about her screamed self-neglect. And she’d lost weight. A whole lot of weight.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  Teagan did her best to keep the horror from her voice and face. ‘Hi, Mum. Good trip?’

  Her mum hovered like she wanted a hug. Teagan glanced again at Ness, who was observing their reunion closely with her lips rolled together. At her subtle nod Teagan reached to give her mum a rapid, awkward embrace and clumsy, hesitant cheek kiss that had none of the intense emotion she’d shared with Ness only minutes before. They’d never been an affectionate family anyway. Not like Emily, whose familial devotion had, until recently, made get-togethers a much-loved ritual.

  Contact made, she quickly moved on. ‘Long day, I’m guessing.’

  Penny wrung her hands in the same anguished way she had at Pinehaven. ‘Yes. We had a delay coming out of Melbourne. Fog.’

  Ness handed Teagan her glass, mouthing a thank you before addressing her sister. ‘Penny darling, are you sure you won’t have a drink? A small one to help you relax?’

  ‘No, no.’ She fluttered her hand, a nervous, jerky movement that made Ness frown. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  Teagan carried her glass to the verandah rail and leaned against it. Her mother surveyed her surroundings with a lost expression. Her shoulders hunched further. Collapsing back into her chair, she stared at her lap. Teagan looked away, her throat turning rough. She should have offered more but she wasn’t capable. The wounds of loss, leaving and betrayal were too open.

  ‘I’ll get those nibblies,’ said Ness. ‘I’m sure you’re both hungry.’ As she passed Teagan she touched her forearm in a brief gesture of reassurance.

  Teagan took a slug of her drink and stared through the dark at Betty and Wilma’s hutch. The cocktail was slightly sweet and effervescent, a cheerful drink for summertime. The inappropriateness of it in the face of her mother’s strange manner and awful appearance seemed wrong.

  It was one of those peculiar nights she’d come to admire in the valley. Most evenings the temperature dropped rapidly as cool air cascaded from the ranges into the hollows. But tonight it remained balmy, the birds, insects and possums lively. The land had a happy life-filled ring to it. Yet on the verandah a bleak drama was playing out.

  She wished it would end.

  ‘Ness said you’ve left Dad.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Teagan nodded, searching for something else to add. ‘How is he taking it?’

  ‘Taking it?’ Penny let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. ‘He’s not.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your father lives in a dream world. He probably hasn’t even realised I’ve gone.’

  ‘Still wrapped in his computer, then?’

  She nodded.

  Teagan wasn’t surprised. Even when their world was turning to shit his addict-intense dedication to the trading program hadn’t wavered. ‘Have you spoken to Owen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  Penny shook her head. No sympathy from her brother it seemed. Teagan should have expected as much. On one level she couldn’t blame Owen for not inviting his mother over to stay. They’d never been that kind of family and he had a new life now. A sweet new bride, a farm to work. And Owen was unlikely to have forgotten the fierce recriminations that had followed his announcement that he was relocating permanently to New Zealand.

  How amazing that Teagan had once thought his move a positive thing. That this would be her opportunity to prove to her dad that she could take over the farm. But no matter how she protested, he’d been convinced she’d give it up the moment marriage and pregnancy came along. That her heart wasn’t really in it. And what had she done? Instead of telling him where to shove his sexist attitude, she’d given up all chance of love and romance to prove him wrong.

  Ness came back out with a tray of dips, pâté, pickled vegetables, and a basket of sliced French stick. Teagan and her mother regarded it with equal dismay.

  ‘Some tapenade?’

  Penny looked at her sister in confusion.

  ‘Olive dip,’ explained Ness kindly. ‘It’s very nice.’

  Wrinkles formed across Penny’s nose. Teagan suppressed a sigh of irritation. Her mother didn’t go for fancy food. She rarely drank, and never wine. She didn’t do anything remotely risky or exciting. She just followed meekly after her husband, straight into disaster.

  Self-recognition had Teagan quickly turning to face the night again, her teeth jammed together. Finding fault with her mother was a bit rich when she’d suffered the same failings. Truth was they were both a pair of fools.

  She took another slug of kir, desperate for the pain to go away, but since the news of her mother’s arrival the scabs over her slowly healing cuts had been broken open. And they wouldn’t stop stinging.

  Ness fussed with food that nobody wanted, spreading bread with pâté, pushing dips and vegetables across the table, while the evening lay clotted and hushed around them.

  Finally, Teagan broke the quiet.

  ‘Why did you have to come here, Mum?’ Her voice cracked on the words. ‘I don’t understand it. All those years you spent criticising Ness, holding her up as a bad example the moment I showed any interest in her life. Yet here is where you come?’

  ‘Teagan, please,’ said Ness. ‘Not tonight.’

  Penny’s eyes were enormous and liquid, her face sagging into even more folds. She looked old and fragile and pathetically vulnerable. ‘I had nowhere else.’

  At the simplicity of her answer Teagan pressed her head against the verandah post and screwed her eyes shut. She hauled in several long breaths and straightened. ‘I’m sorry. Ness is right. This isn’t the time.’

  Penny shook her head. ‘No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll find somewhere else tomorrow.’

  ‘You will do no such thing!’ Ness knelt by her sister’s knees and clasped her hands. ‘I promise you, Penny, it’s fine. You’re welcome here. For as long as you need.’ She glanced at Teagan and back to her sister. ‘We’re all tired and emotional at the moment. It’s been a tough few days for everyone, especially you. We’ll talk tomorrow. Tonight is for rest.’

  But her words were too late. The elephant had trumpeted and couldn’t be ignored.

  Sniffing and trembling, Penny raised her old-sad eyes to her daughter. ‘I know I let you down. I know I should’ve encouraged you to think beyond the farm, experience a bit more of life, but you were so happy at Pinehaven. It was all you seemed to want, and when Owen left and didn’t come home, I was scared I’d lose you, too. Then Graham, he . . . he started to change . . .’

  It was the most they’d talked in a long time and the emotion of it was flailing Teagan inside and out. She wished she could relieve her mother of the anguish of it, but there were so many questions.

  ‘Why didn’t you stop him? He was gambling our lives away. Our futur
es.’

  ‘Because I didn’t know! I honestly didn’t. I thought he was doing . . . other things.’ Her voice fell to a whisper, her gaze falling with it. She crushed her lips together until they turned pale. ‘I was ashamed. I hoped it would pass.’

  ‘But the money, Mum. He took all the money.’ Teagan slapped her hand on her chest. ‘Money that I’d worked my guts out to save.’

  ‘I didn’t know. He said it was just a few thousand.’

  ‘A few thousand? Mum, it was nearly eighty grand! Every cent I’d saved since school!’ She looked away, breathing hard. Saying the sum out loud made her heart race, like she was having some sort of a panic attack. All that cash. Teagan was twenty-nine years old. How could she ever catch up?

  ‘Please,’ said Ness, ‘why don’t we leave this for now. Have a drink and something to eat and then sleep on it. We can talk in the morning. When we’re all rested.’

  ‘I have to work,’ said Teagan.

  Ness regarded her with dismay. ‘But I thought you said Nick planned to give you Monday off to make up for the weekend.’

  She shrugged, not liking herself for the lie, but the fluttery panic in her chest was frightening. She didn’t want to talk tomorrow. Talk wouldn’t solve the mess she was in. It would only remind her how deep the pit she’d fallen in was. ‘He changed his mind.’

  Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t come out and call Teagan a liar, but Teagan could tell she wanted to. Lying had never been Teagan’s forte and the fib was brazen. Her mother was too distressed to notice, but Ness had. No doubt there’d be a chat about it later. Later Teagan might be able to handle it. Right now she couldn’t.

  Penny stood, a slow, careful rise like an aching arthritic woman. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’ Her pleading gaze landed on Teagan. ‘I didn’t come here to ruin anything. I just thought . . .’ She contorted her mouth as though holding in a sob and gave a weary wave of her hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  With a leaden weight in her belly, Teagan watched Ness escort her mum inside.

  Ness returned and gathered up the untouched food. She held the tray in front of her while she addressed Teagan. ‘I’m going to bed as well. It’s been a trying day.’