by Cathryn Hein
PaperPassion’s bell rang out as he took the plans from his pocket and pushed the door open. A woman rose from behind the counter, but it wasn’t Em. This woman was older, perhaps in her fifties, and wore narrow gold-framed glasses and her blonde-streaked hair in short spikes. He halted, confused, and glanced towards the bead curtain, expecting Em to rattle through it but the beads hung still and quiet.
‘Hello,’ the woman said. ‘Looking for something special?’
Not something, someone. ‘I was after Em.’
‘I’m afraid she’s not in today. Perhaps I can help?’
‘Is she sick?’
‘No. I believe she’s gone to Adelaide.’
He blinked, still confused. Em hadn’t mentioned anything about going to Adelaide. ‘Do you know when she’ll be back?’
‘Not until the end of the week I think.’
‘Right.’ He nodded and tapped the plans against his curled-up left fist, feeling foolish. ‘Right.’
The woman stepped closer. ‘I’m not in often but I have a fair grip on things. Are you sure I can’t help?’
He tapped a few more times then realised what he was doing and shoved the plans back into his pocket. ‘Yeah, I’m sure.’
‘Did you want to leave a message for her?’
‘No. No message.’ He turned for the door, then remembered his manners. ‘Thanks. I’ll catch her another time.’
On the street, he stood for a moment, staring down the road to the cenotaph. Cars passed by on either side, people going about their business.
He didn’t know why he hurt so much.
Sixteen
Em’s mood didn’t bear speaking about. She drove with her fists clenched around the Patrol’s steering wheel and her attention deliberately fixed on the road. Beside her, Granny B appeared unperturbed, which somehow made it all worse.
‘I trust you aren’t going to be like this the entire trip.’ Granny B shifted in her seat. ‘It should make for a rather boring journey.’
‘I should be in the shop.’
‘Indeed you should. However, I’m not about to take a taxi all the way to Adelaide.’
Em sighed and relaxed her hands. Gran was right. They had another three hours’ drive ahead of them and holding on to her temper was childish. She’d already expressed her displeasure many times, but her family had been unmoved. Granny B had an appointment that couldn’t be missed in Adelaide with her eye specialist. Digby had too much work on, Adrienne had an important Arts Committee meeting and although Em was sure Felicity was perfectly capable of making the trip, both she and Granny B had made excuses as to why she shouldn’t. Which left Em.
Normally she wouldn’t have minded. Granny B could be an excellent travelling and shopping companion, and combining a trip to Adelaide with a visit to her suppliers to inspect new ranges and also see what her city counterparts were up to made the journey worthwhile. Except this time Adrienne refused to cover the shop and Em was forced to engage Helen, her casual, who she could ill afford. The tree removalists were due Thursday and the stump grinder Friday, which meant more time off and expense. The last time Em had taken so many days off in a row was three years ago, when she, Teagan and Jas had trucked Lod, Ox and Teagan’s old mount Trumper to Melbourne to compete at the Royal Show.
At least Granny B was paying for fuel and accommodation, albeit grudgingly.
The news came on the radio, distracting them for a while, then Granny B reached across and turned the volume down. She sat back with her hands in her lap. ‘We need to talk about your mother, Emily.’
‘What about Mum?’
‘I believe she’s drinking.’
‘She enjoys a glass of wine. So do I. So do a lot of people.’
‘In secret?’
Em frowned. ‘Surely it’s no more than a glass in front of the telly or with Samuel?’
Granny B pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps. But I don’t believe so.’ She turned to look out the side window, where the magnificent red gum country of the lower south-east sprawled verdant and fertile. In another fifty kilometres or so, the country would begin to change with the rainfall pattern, the flora shrinking to more drought-hardy species. ‘I would never have expected it of her.’
Em wouldn’t have either. Adrienne was too filled with grace to allow herself the release of control that alcohol gave. ‘But why?’
Her grandmother hesitated before answering. ‘I think she might be having second thoughts about Felicity.’
‘Surely not. They’ve been getting along like a house on fire.’
Granny B shook her head. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’
‘Noticed what?’
‘Open your eyes, Emily. There’s more to that girl than either she or Digby is letting on.’
‘Like what?’ She stared across at her grandmother. ‘Come on, like what?’
‘I don’t know, but I intend to find out.’
Em caught the thrust of Granny B’s jaw and her heart sank. ‘Oh, Gran, what have you planned?’
But her grandmother turned to the window and, despite Em’s frustrated pleas, refused to say another word on the subject.
Granny B exited the specialist’s with a disdainful tilt to her nose. ‘Waste of money,’ she declared as they walked to Em’s car. ‘Just keep using the drops. Ridiculous. He could have phoned that through.’
‘Still no discussion of a trabeculectomy?’
‘He deems it unnecessary at this point. The eye drops are doing their job.’
‘Do you think we should get a second opinion?’
‘No. I’ve had quite enough of these doctors as it is. And none of them will restore the vision I’ve lost. I might as well ignore them and get on with living.’ She stopped at the car door. ‘And we have more important things to worry about.’
Em looked at the sky. It was only four. They could be home by eight, but Granny B had insisted on an overnight stay. Nice hotel or not, Em would rather be sharing her night with Josh. She slid into the car. ‘Right. To the Hyatt? Or did you want to do a bit of shopping first?’
‘Neither.’ Granny B pointed through the windscreen. ‘You and I are going for a drive.’
Em narrowed her eyes. ‘Where?’
‘You’ll see. Straight ahead and then right onto Dequetteville Terrace.’
Em gave her grandmother a warning look but did as she was told. Past the Royal Adelaide Hospital, the road slipped through Rundle Park, lush with winter grass. ‘At least give me some idea of where we’re headed.’
‘Springfield. I’ll tell you where to turn.’ At Em’s expression she gave a dry laugh. ‘I still possess one good eye, you know.’
The address to where Granny B directed Em wasn’t far from the Adelaide University’s Waite Campus, famous for world-renowned agricultural research. This was moneyed Adelaide. The houses were large and expensive-looking, with tasteful tall fences enclosing manicured gardens and well-established shade trees. Sleek cars were parked in paved driveways, many European-brand SUVs that made Em’s old Patrol look shabby and out of place.
Granny B ordered her through the open gates of a red-brick driveway. Over the top of a green and silver pittosporum hedge, Em glimpsed a magnificent two-storey Georgian-influenced mansion. The drive curved, giving her a full view of the house. Camrick it was not, but it still possessed plenty of majesty.
The drive widened into a parking area. Em switched off the car and alighted with Granny B.
‘What are we doing here?’
‘Meeting a friend of mine.’
‘Who?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘I’m not enjoying this game, Gran.’
‘It’s not a game, Emily. We have a problem and I intend to solve it.’
The front door opening halted their discussion. A man appeared, his arms spreading in a warm gesture of welcome.
‘Audrey, how wonderful to see you.’ He looked her up and down, eyes twinkling. ‘Still haven’t lost any of that famous Wallace glamour.’
/> Despite his years, he looked fit, and had intelligent brown eyes, a generous smile and hair as silver as the woman’s whose hands he clasped with obvious delight.
‘And you’re still the charmer.’ They exchanged kisses, before Granny B stepped back. ‘Charles Markham, please allow me to introduce my granddaughter Emily.’
His gaze ranged over Em with the same appreciation he’d given her grandmother. ‘Another beauty. Those Wallace genes are quite something.’ He held out his hand. ‘Enchanted to meet you.’
‘And you.’ Although Em still had no idea where the man fitted into her grandmother’s life or her schemes.
Charles beckoned them into the house, talking over his shoulder as he led them to a sitting room. ‘Tea? Or is it time for an aperitif? You were always partial to a Tom Collins, Audrey, if I recall.’
‘I was indeed, but I’m quite happy with a G and T to save you trouble.’
‘And you, Emily? What can I tempt you with?’
‘Emily will have a glass of white wine.’
Em clenched her jaw but manners prevented her from arguing. ‘White wine would be fine.’
‘Chardonnay? There’s riesling in the cellar, if you prefer. Eden or Clare Valley.’ He frowned a touch. ‘I don’t believe I have any New Zealand sav blanc, sorry. So popular these days among the younger set. Can’t stand it myself, far too cloying.’
His pained disdain reminded her momentarily of Uncle James, who’d made no effort to hide his wine snobbery. ‘Chardonnay will be fine.’
Charles indicated a floral three-seater lounge and beckoned them to sit. After the cool of the fading afternoon, the room was cosy and cheerful. Partly from a well-tended fire crackling behind a brass grate, partly from the plush soft furnishings in warm colours and textures.
She waited until Charles had left to fetch their drinks before turning on her grandmother. ‘Okay, what the hell is going on?’
‘What does it look like? I’m meeting an old friend.’
‘There’s more to it than that.’
‘Of course there is, but you’ll have to wait.’
Not in the mood to sit, Em remained standing, leaving her grandmother alone on the three-seater. Not that Granny B appeared the slightest affronted. She sat with her legs together and angled to one side, princess-like, and her hands in her lap, graciously smiling on Charles’s return and accepting her tumbler of gin and tonic like some latter-day lady of the manor.
‘Please,’ he said, handing a wine glass to Em and sweeping his arm towards a wing-backed chair to the side of the fire. ‘Sit down. I won’t be a moment.’ He headed back out again, returning quickly with a tumbler of something amber on ice, and a manila folder. He sat next to Granny B. ‘To old friendships,’ he said, raising his glass and drinking.
Charles placed his tumbler down on the timber coffee table, and leaned forward. ‘Shall we get down to business?’
‘Excellent idea.’
He removed a pair of reading glasses from the pocket of his shirt and perched them on the end of his nose, smiling at Granny B. ‘Old age, hey, Audrey? Gets to us all.’
‘Sadly, yes. But fortunately our minds remain sharp.’
‘They do indeed, thank goodness.’ He opened the folder, slid out some pages, and picked up the top sheet. ‘The story’s rather sad, I’m afraid.’
Em couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Charles, but what’s all this about?’
‘Ah,’ said Charles, glancing at Granny B for direction. At the old lady’s nod he turned his attention to Em. ‘I’m a journalist or, rather, I was. Retired now.’ His eyes lit with secret knowledge. ‘Mostly. Your grandmother contacted me to do some research on Felicity Townsend, to whom I understand your brother is now engaged.’
Em felt a shrinking inside. On top of her being Digby’s fiancée, Em also regarded Felicity as a friend. It was a nascent friendship, to be fair, but one she hoped to nurture. Engaging a journalist to snoop into Felicity’s past stank of dishonour.
‘How could you, Gran?’
‘If you’re worried about privacy,’ said Granny B, ignoring the accusation, ‘I can assure you Charles understands the meaning of discretion.’ A look passed between them, something cryptic and intimate, which left Em suspicious as to how close their friendship actually was.
‘This is a gross betrayal of trust.’
A row of fine lines appeared around Granny B’s mouth but her expression was unapologetic.
Charles simply watched them, though Em knew he was making as many judgements of her as she was of him. After a few beats of tense silence, he continued with his findings.
‘Your suspicions were well founded, Audrey. The Townsends have quite a long history of criminal behaviour, mainly to do with the manufacture and distribution of amphetamines, although they’re out of action for the time being.’
‘For what reason?’
‘Jail tends to make the drug business difficult. They were small time, anyway.’ He paused meaningfully. ‘Unlike Mark Ainsley.’ His gaze met Em’s. ‘The man Felicity attempted to kill.’
Em straightened in shock. ‘Kill? What do you mean, kill?’
‘Two years and seven months ago, Felicity Townsend stabbed her fiancé with a kitchen knife.’
With shaky hands, Em placed her glass on the table and pressed the tips of her fingers against her mouth. Felicity? It couldn’t possibly be true. She dropped her hand. ‘You must have the wrong person.’
Charles reached into his folder, removed a newspaper cutting and passed it over. The photographer had caught Felicity looking wide-eyed and vulnerable as she was bustled into the courthouse. Em skimmed the text then dropped the clipping on the table as though the ink contained poison.
‘Did you know about this?’ she asked Granny B.
‘Not until Charles told me.’
Em still couldn’t believe it. Felicity? She was too sweet, too delicate to inflict that kind of violence. She loved animals. She loved Digby. Brutality wasn’t in her nature. ‘It must have been self-defence.’
‘Most likely it was, but the court didn’t see it so cleanly,’ said Charles. ‘Ainsley was not a pleasant man, regardless of what his family believes, or what was shown in court.’ He made a rueful gesture. ‘He and the Townsends were in business together, albeit briefly. Lance Townsend was never a particularly smart operator and the son Brett, Felicity’s brother, was even worse. When their relationship turned sour and the Townsends couldn’t pay up, Mark Ainsley effectively demanded Felicity as payment.’ He picked up the clipping and studied the photo. ‘She didn’t know. She was seventeen, poorly educated and, according to those who knew her, an inveterate dreamer. All around her she saw hopelessness. Families on welfare, drug addictions, friends getting pregnant. She only had to look to her own mother to see what awaited her. Ainsley lived in a nice suburb, dressed well, drove a good car. When her father introduced her to him, she didn’t see drug money. She saw a middle-class respectable world, filled with things she’d be denied if she stayed in Elizabeth.’
‘In other words,’ interrupted Granny B, ‘all the things she has now, thanks to Digby.’
Em was too horrified to speak. Felicity’s own father had sold her to a drug dealer?
Charles considered her. ‘It’s difficult to fathom, isn’t it?’
Em nodded, sick with shock, her head overloaded with questions. ‘So what happened?’
‘Ainsley became obsessed with her, violently so. She was young, very beautiful and immature. All she saw was a man who appeared to value her more than any one else ever had, but the reality was that Ainsley regarded her as his property, to do with as he liked. Which he did. What was meant to be an escape for her turned into five years of hell. The one time she fought back cost her nearly two years in jail.’
Em shook her head. How could she have not gotten away? At seventeen Em could understand her staying – just – but Felicity was older when she stabbed Mark Ainsley, a grown woman. She could have walk
ed out. Run interstate. Contacted a shelter. Something.
Except Em had read enough newspapers and books, and watched enough television to know that’s not how battered women behaved. The trouble was she couldn’t picture Felicity as a helpless victim.
Granny B sat back. ‘A girl whose father could trade her like a piece of livestock must have had a shocking upbringing. She’d have to be mentally disturbed.’
‘You’d think so, but no. She was assessed as part of the trial and deemed traumatised but with no underlying mental issues. There were some problems in jail, which I’ve listed in the report, but since release Felicity has been living quietly in assisted accommodation in Gawler without incident.’
‘Where Digby met her.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled understandingly at Em. ‘In innocent circumstances.’
Which only made Em feel sicker about what she’d discovered. If Felicity wanted to keep her past a secret then she had that right. That Digby knew was obvious now; the way he’d covered up when Felicity mistakenly revealed she’d worked in a commercial kitchen, how he helped change the subject whenever her life in Adelaide was brought up. And if Digby understood then so could they. People were allowed to start new lives, free from their pasts.
‘We didn’t need to know this, Gran.’
‘Your grandmother asked for my help with the best of intentions, Emily. She’s always been protective of the Wallace family name.’
‘Someone has to be,’ said Granny B, her chin lifted. ‘And I appear to be the only one with the gonads to do so.’
Charles laughed, momentarily breaking the tension, although not Em’s deep disquiet. ‘You are a warrior among women, Audrey. William was a lucky man.’ He held up his glass to chink it against hers. ‘To your formidable Wallace gonads. Long may they fire in your loins.’
‘I hate what you’ve done,’ said Em on the drive home the following lunchtime, after a morning spent snooping on PaperPassion’s rivals to prevent the trip from being a complete business waste.
‘Feel free to dislike it all you like, Emily, but we are better off knowing.’
‘How are we better off knowing?’
