Birthright

by Fiona Lowe

  ‘The tradition is to pass it to sons and we don’t have a son.’ He gently rested his hand on her thigh. ‘And before you get upset, you know that not having a son doesn’t bother me at all. I love you and the girls to bits. Besides, having daughters frees us from that tradition and the timing couldn’t be better. The market’s sky high and it’s ripe to sell.’

  He’d said the same thing about Warrnbatt. ‘But it doesn’t make any sense to sell when our plan’s always been to use it for Cooked By a Friend. It was your idea. You said it suited the business to a T.’

  ‘I said using the house for Cooked By a Friend would work in our favour in case Mum hadn’t already decided to leave the house to us. As it turns out, we needn’t have worried.’ He smiled at her, half indulgent, half apologetic. ‘I’m sorry you did all that work for nothing.’

  For nothing?! The foundations of her already wobbly trust in her husband collapsed and a chill settled over her at odds with her burning rage. She had poured her heart and soul into Cooked By a Friend, working to create a business that, over time, would contribute to their income and he’d just dismissed it as expendable? The wriggling truth suddenly stilled and glowed fluorescent with clarity.

  Cameron didn’t care.

  He didn’t care that Chris Parry had money problems; all he saw was the financial opportunity Warrnbatt had represented. He didn’t care about her business—the Melbourne version or this one—and what it meant to her. In Melbourne, it was expedient, giving him contacts. Here, it was a convenient ruse. All he cared about was money. Warrnbatt and Mill House held no sentiment for him, just profit. The Parry family had been surplus to requirements and now it was clear to Anita that she was too. She’d been a biddable pawn in his strategic game of family chess and his goal to take the king— one hundred per cent of Margaret’s wealth.

  He loved money more than he loved people.

  Pain ripped through Anita and before she could catch her breath, the truth rained down, threatening to drown her. She was culpable too. She’d supported him in his quest to disinherit his sisters and his niece and nephews. What she’d naively thought was his love was manipulation. He’d used her fears and insecurities to control her and she’d unquestioningly believed they were more entitled to the spoils than anyone else. How could she have been so blind to his behaviour? Why did she fall so fast for the stories he’d told about Sarah, when she knew her sister-in-law was a good person?

  If Cameron was prepared to throw his own flesh and blood under the bus for money then of course he’d have no qualms doing it to strangers. Despite her doubts and rigorous questions about the Warrnbatt deal, he’d cleverly convinced her of his regret by conceding to pay Jane Parry money—another amount he’d never specified to her. His money-grubbing heart was probably confident that, after the settlement in five months’ time, he’d casually say, ‘Oh, and I paid Jane,’ and she’d kiss him on the cheek and thank him without question.

  Anxiety skittered through Anita, making her light-headed, and she struggled against grasping panic. The man she loved and trusted more than anyone, the father of her children, was a master manipulator. Over the last few months, she’d accused Sarah of lacking a moral compass but she was just as bad. She’d unwittingly aided and abetted a thief. She’d allowed the love and security Cameron represented, the physical comforts of their life together and her paralysing fear of losing them, to erode her ethics. Breathe! It was time to take charge, hold tightly to the tattered shreds of her self-respect and live the life she wanted to model to her daughters. People and relationships always came ahead of money. The needs of others must be weighed up before acting. Greed was dangerous.

  ‘I’m not selling Mill House.’

  Sensing a shift, Cameron tilted his head, trying to assess exactly what was going on. ‘We don’t have to make any big decisions tonight, especially after the day we’ve had. We can talk about it in the morning.’ He stretched out his hand. ‘Let’s take advantage of having the house to ourselves. Fancy putting on that turquoise ball-gown one more time before we post it to its new owner? I promise I’ll take it off you very, very slowly.’ His eyes glittered with desire.

  It was like he’d slapped her. He’d probably never intended to give his mother the Vintage Glamour money either.

  ‘I’m sleeping in the spare room tonight.’

  He looked utterly flummoxed. ‘What the hell for?’

  Where to start? With his avarice and greed? With his cheating, lying and scheming? His total disregard for anyone except himself? All she knew was that it would be the hardest and most difficult conversation she’d ever have and tonight was not the night for it. When she told him she was leaving, she needed all her wits about her to stay one step ahead of his clever and conniving mind and ruthless exploitation.

  ‘Like you said, it’s been a tough few days. We’re both exhausted and I need an uninterrupted night’s sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’

  It hurt to walk away from him—this man she’d loved for so long—and she felt the sting cleave the length of her body. But with each step, her new resolve firmed.

  She was walking out of darkness and back towards the light. Her soul started to sing.

  CHAPTER

  24

  Sarah had far too much time on her hands and not enough concentration to achieve much at all. Each day as she sorted through her mother’s things, her thoughts circled from Alex to Gus to Edmund to Cameron to Margaret to Anita and back again, solving nothing and making matters murkier than ever. Her mother’s death may have freed her from weeks of angst-inducing hospital visits spent hiding her fulminating anger with Margaret from the staff, but it didn’t bring any relief. It was impossible to grieve for someone she’d never truly known—especially a woman who had inflicted so much pain on the people she supposedly loved. Sarah wasn’t innocent from causing pain to loved ones either, but Margaret had taken it to a completely different level.

  Reading up on narcissists had helped to explain some things but it didn’t protect her from flailing in a sea of choppy emotions that threatened to pull her under. If anything, it increased her sadness for her father, Ellie and herself. Not Cameron—he’d been more sheltered from Margaret’s self-centeredness, although not immune given the loss of the saw mill. His attempt to grab the lion’s share of the inheritance gave truth to the saying that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Not that she was naive enough to believe her father was totally blameless in the inflicting pain and heartache stakes.

  If she’d learned anything about marriage recently, it was that both partners played a role in the misery of the other. But when she thought about her childhood and her interactions with her parents she knew her father had always been the kinder, fairer and more loving adult in her life. The shock Margaret must have experienced on discovering Kevin was homosexual was a given, but it wasn’t enough to join the dots and explain how Margaret had treated Ellie.

  The narcissism also made the two wills harder to decipher— what were Margaret’s intentions and what were Cameron’s? Dan had offered to help with the legal battle but every time she looked at him, she saw Robert.

  ‘I think it’s easier if I use someone else. Can you suggest someone?’

  Hurt had flickered across his face. ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I am.’ She quickly worked the conversation around to news of the family and to Megan. ‘How long since she visited Mingunyah?’

  ‘Too long. I offered to fly her home for Mum’s eightieth but she’s always got an excuse as to why she can’t get away. In most families, it’s the daughters who are the glue, but not in ours. My sisters …’ He sighed. ‘I feel for Mum.’

  Sarah felt for Megan and Kathryn. Although she couldn’t say anything to Dan about his father and Ellie, she wanted to sow some seeds in case Ellie decided against contacting Megan. ‘Maybe you could visit her in Queensland?’

  Dan snorted. ‘No point. Megan’s always been all about Megan. Her life’s far more important t
han anyone else’s.’

  She heard her old self in his words. ‘There’s always a point, Dan. It’s too easy to make assumptions about people, especially family. We’re invariably wrong. I’m starting to think I never knew my mother at all.’ She picked up the satchel of paperwork. ‘Although sadly, I’ve always known my brother. If I were you, I’d make time to ask Megan if there’s a reason why she never comes back here.’

  Sarah had driven to Valley View and engaged Derek Costiano as her solicitor. He, like Dan, told her that with scant evidence to prove her mother’s failing mental status, it was going to be exceedingly difficult to prove Cameron had inflicted undue influence on Margaret’s decision making. It was likely the court would rule in favour of the new will.

  ‘We could lodge a testator’s family maintenance claim,’ Derek suggested. ‘But with your income it would be hard to argue. On the other hand, your sister has a very strong case.’

  But Ellie was adamant she wanted nothing to do with the will. As much as Sarah hated the thought of Cameron and Anita getting the lot, she couldn’t ask Ellie to go through a protracted legal battle for something that might threaten her hard-earned but still fragile peace. No, this was a battle Sarah had to fight alone and right now, she was truly on her own.

  Shame knotted her in self-loathing. Edmund.

  ‘Ouch!’ Sarah glanced down and saw a bloom of blood on the tip of her finger. She was preparing ingredients for tacos and she’d just grated her finger along with the cheese. She sucked the wound, welcoming the pain. It didn’t come close to the misery she’d inflicted on Edmund.

  She blamed herself, although not so much for tumbling into bed with Edmund the first time—everyone was allowed one mistake. No, the blame lay in being completely selfish and self-centred. For going back again and again and feeding her own needs without once considering his. She recognised that some elements of her own behaviour mirrored her mother’s and it appalled her. She couldn’t hide from what she’d done and as difficult and as uncomfortable as it was, she accepted she’d behaved atrociously. As a form of penance, she now volunteered at the neighbourhood house and asked Ellie to give her all the crap jobs no one wanted.

  With the cheese grated, she diced lettuce. Mexican food was another of Gus’s favourites and she was desperately trying anything to break her son’s tight-lipped silence. With the mediation session two days away, the Raith family were making rumblings around town about wanting justice. The other day, when Sarah stepped into the butchers, the chattering customers fell silent—clear evidence they’d been talking about her, Alex and Gus. The Raiths’ confidence that all the fault lay with Gus infuriated her and she’d ranted to Alex about it on Friday after he’d dropped Gus off at the flat. He’d cautioned her not to speak with the parents.

  ‘I understand the mighty force of your mothering, Sarah and I get why you want to snot Craig Raith, but you risk making things worse for Gus.’

  ‘How can you be so calm and rational about it all?’

  His mouth had tweaked up on one side as if he recognised the switch in their parenting styles. ‘I’m not, but I’m trying.’

  The confident, father-knows-best Alex who’d flown off the handle when Gus told him about Sweet Charity and missing footy matches, and who sulked when Gus was dropped to the seconds, had disappeared. But despite their collaborative parenting efforts, they were out of ideas on how to get their younger son to talk.

  Gus ambled out of his room. ‘What time’s dinner?’

  ‘As soon as your dad arrives. He texted saying he’s ten minutes away.’

  ‘Jeez,’ Gus said, opening the cutlery draw. ‘That’s a first.’

  ‘Yes, well, we did reach an all-time low there for a bit. Now we’re working on being polite and respectful.’

  ‘It’s weird watching the two of you together now you’re … you know … not together.’

  She knew what he meant. Touching Alex—hugging, kissing, caressing, tickling, nudging him—had once been as natural as breathing. Now they were stiff and formal with each other, studiously avoiding any inadvertent physical contact. Greeting him was a nightmare. A kiss was too intimate and a handshake too formal and ridiculous, so she was sticking with a cheery and breezy ‘Hi’ and ‘Bye’.

  ‘I’m sorry, Gus. I guess it’s going to take some time for your dad and me to establish a new normal.’

  He closed the drawer with his hip. ‘A new normal?’

  ‘Why not? One of the definitions of normal is “everyday” and “usual”. We’ll develop our own usual that’s normal for this new us. Something we’re all comfortable with, because you, me, Dad, Finn and Emma are all that matter.’

  ‘What about Uncle Edmund?’ Gus dropped spoons and forks on the table. ‘Or when Dad meets someone else?’

  Both scenarios made Sarah ache. ‘Uncle Edmund isn’t my someone else and neither is anyone else right now. To be honest, Gus, after everything that’s happened with your dad and Gran, I need some time on my own.’ She pasted a smile over her breaking heart. ‘And if Dad meets someone then I guess we adjust the normal again. I’m hoping the new Hadfield normal can be flexible and inclusive and respectful. Or at least attempt to be.’

  Gus stopped setting the table and hugged her.

  Surprised and immensely grateful, she hugged him back. She’d desperately missed her affectionate son.

  A knock sounded on the door and Gus opened it. ‘Hey, Dad.’

  ‘Hi, Gus.’ Alex hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between hugging Gus or shaking his hand.

  Gus made the decision for him and hugged his father. Sarah smiled, sharing Alex’s look of relief over their son’s shoulder.

  ‘Do you mind if we sit down straight away and eat?’

  ‘Suits me.’ Alex handed her a six pack of beer and a sagging bunch of snowdrops from Riverbend’s garden. ‘The drive’s white with them this year.’

  She nodded, not sure she could speak without her voice giving too much away. Alex didn’t do flowers; in fact, she was never sure if he really noticed them in the garden or inside the house. It was certainly rare for him to give her any and yet, here he was, having picked some. Taking in the wilt factor, he’d picked them a while ago but if this was Alex working at being thoughtful, polite and respectful, it was going to kill her.

  Alex spun the top off a couple of beers and Gus got himself a Solo and they sat down. As they passed the bowls around the table and built their tacos, Alex asked Gus if he thought the seconds had a chance of winning next week and securing a place in the finals. Sarah listened to them discuss the players and the likely strategies the coach might use.

  As the conversation reached its natural conclusion, she opened her mouth to ask Gus about the band but Alex said, ‘I put your poster up in the break room, mate. Any news on the new amp?’

  ‘Mr Montalto got it yesterday. We sounded awesome at practice today.’

  Sarah sat in stunned surprise. Watching her estranged husband engaging with Gus on something outside of football, she celebrated the only positive thing their separation had engendered. The conversation flowed along without too many awkward silences. Alex didn’t talk about work, which must have killed him, but she appreciated it, because that was a private conversation they must have soon and it would involve lawyers.

  Eventually, Gus stood and cleared the table. When he looked like he was about to vanish into his room, Alex said, ‘Mate, your mother and I aren’t worried about you anymore. Now we’re just scared.’

  Gus’s head snapped round, his face unreadable. ‘You don’t have to be.’

  ‘Yeah, we do. The mediation process won’t work if you won’t talk. I don’t want my talented and intelligent son carrying the legacy of a criminal charge. It sticks, Gus. Whatever you want to do in the future, whether it’s playing footy with the AFL or doing something else that you love, it’s going to stick to you like glue. Employers will hire someone without a record ahead of someone with one every single time. I know—I do it. So does your mo
ther.’

  Sarah patted Gus’s chair. ‘Darling, please talk to us.’

  Gus stood, his jaw working, and Sarah steeled herself for a defensive outburst. But he pushed off the bench and reluctantly slid onto the chair, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

  ‘I’ve seen you deal with all sorts of crap playing footy and you’re remarkable, the way you just block it out and get on with the game,’ Alex said. ‘You’ve never slugged anyone before, so what was different with Mason?’

  ‘I wasn’t playing footy,’ Gus quipped in the smartarse tone of a guilty teen.

  ‘What did he say that made you so angry or hurt that you hit him?’ Sarah asked.

  Gus tore a strip off the label on his father’s empty beer bottle, the damp paper clumping into balls around the base. Sarah glanced at Alex, reading worry and anxiety on his face and she knew he’d be seeing the same on hers. Pushing her hands under her thighs, she sat on them, focusing on the uncomfortable pressure instead of giving in to speaking. Hoping against hope that her and Alex’s silence would drive Gus to break it.

  The label was now completely off the bottle and Gus was levering the glue off with his thumbnail as if his life depended on it. ‘He called me a poofter.’

  Alex groaned. ‘So, you hit a moron? Jeez, Gus. You know wankers like that are everywhere. Hell, you play footy against them every week and I’ve heard you called worse and react less.’

  Gus’s head was down and he mumbled something.

  Sarah strained to listen. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.’

  ‘I said he’s right!’ Gus’s head shot up. ‘I’m gay.’

  Sarah blinked as she stared at her son. Half-formed words bounced in her mind but she couldn’t get her mouth to work to deliver them. Instead, she grabbed Gus’s hand, holding it tightly.

  Alex looked stupefied. ‘But you’re always surrounded by girls. It drives Finn nuts that you don’t have to do anything to get their attention. And Ebony … She’s always at Riverbend. I thought you two were …’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘You like girls.’