*
Irene was awake, but the world was hazy, dulled by the drugs that dripped through the tangle of tubes and into her arm. She swivelled her gaze – the only part of her she still had under control. William was still there, sitting in a chair by the window, engrossed in a newspaper.
At the sound of the opening door, Irene felt a shock of anguish. Her eyes widened as Olivia and Maggie stepped into the room.
‘Good to see you awake at last,’ said Olivia with the enforced cheerfulness that probably had become second nature during her years of nursing.
Irene saw her eyeing the tented sheets over her legs. Saw the stab of pity and wanted to scream in defiance. She didn’t want her here. Didn’t want either of them to see her in such a pitiful state. Yet she had no means to convey her anguish. No way of communicating the sheer agony of being viewed as a cripple by these two enemies.
‘How are you feeling today?’ Olivia was standing beside the bed. The other one over by the door. At least she had the grace to look awkward and clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
Irene stared back, painfully aware she was dribbling. Why didn’t William see? Why hadn’t he cleaned her up as he’d done before?
‘She’s a lot better,’ said William as he hurriedly cast the newspaper aside and stood to shake hands. ‘The doctor’s pleased with her progress, and she’s aware of everything around her.’ His weary face was lined, the eyes haggard as he attempted to inject some hope into the situation.
Irene saw him frown as he was introduced to Maggie. Noticed how his gaze darted between the two young women, his expression puzzled. She caught Olivia watching her, and wondered if she could see the anguish, the vulnerability she felt. To be faced by both of them at such a time was almost unbearable, and the vow she’d made during the storm to heal the breach was forgotten. She would never forgive either of them – for she despised their pity.
‘I thought it best if we both came,’ explained Olivia. ‘You see I know who she is.’
Irene’s pulse was racing, the machines on either side of the bed hummed and beeped and the noise of them seemed to fill her head. She knew. Olivia knew the truth. Her eyes widened in horror as spittle ran from her slack lips.
‘Why should it come as such a surprise, Irene?’ Olivia’s tone was cold. ‘We were bound to find one another eventually.’
‘No.’ The word resounded in Irene’s head as she rolled her eyes and battled with the lack of air in her lungs. Olivia didn’t understand. How could she? Was she here only to taunt her – to gloat over her misfortune and get her own back for all the times Irene had bullied and manipulated her? If so, she wanted her gone – wanted both of them gone, and out of what was left of her wretched life.
Irene felt the hot, Judas tears on her cheek, but was incapable of wiping them away.
‘It’s no good turning on the waterworks,’ snapped Maggie. ‘You did what you did, now you want to get it off your conscience before you die. Well, it’s too late. The damage was done long ago, and if you expect me to forgive you, you’ll have a long wait.’
‘Don’t talk to my wife like that,’ snapped William with rare sharpness. ‘I don’t know what the hell all this is about, but I won’t have her upset.’
‘I can see this visit was a mistake,’ said Olivia as she looked across at Maggie and saw the anger in her. ‘You’re still too emotionally raw to deal with all this, and Irene’s obviously in no fit state to defend herself.’
She looked back at Irene, the loathsome pity clear in her eyes. ‘I regret we were never close. I regret any pain this visit might have caused you, but I just wanted to try and bring some kind of peace to this divided family.’ She dipped her head. ‘I’ve failed, obviously,’ she murmured. ‘The hurt you’ve inflicted over the years has been too great.’
Irene thought her heart would explode. There was a terrible tightness in her chest and a buzzing in her head. The machines were going haywire and the room was swimming around her. She so wanted them both to understand why she did what she did. So needed to explain how at every turn her love had been spurned. How fate had dealt the cards and she’d had a losing hand. She hadn’t meant for her life to turn out like this. Hadn’t meant to be the cause of such unhappiness. If only …
The darkness closed in, and swept her down into the blissful void where thought and pain and loss didn’t matter.
*
Olivia pressed the alarm bell by the bed. ‘We need the doctor,’ she explained to William. ‘Her pulse is racing, her heart is obviously under a great deal of strain, and I don’t like her colour.’
‘I knew we shouldn’t have come,’ said Maggie anxiously. ‘Now look what we’ve done.’ The anger ebbed swiftly and a look of pain shadowed her face. ‘She will be all right, won’t she?’
‘She’ll never be all right,’ hissed William as he took Irene’s limp hand between his palms and tried to rub some warmth into the chilled skin.
The doctor rushed in, followed swiftly by three nurses, who chivvied them out of the room. They stood like castaways in the corridor, helpless to do anything but wait.
‘What was all that about?’ William demanded. ‘I thought you came to wish her well. To say goodbye. Not cause this sort of trouble.’
He looked from Olivia to Maggie, who’d turned her back on them and was standing at a window, staring out, her arms tightly folded around her waist. ‘And who the hell is she, Olivia?’ he hissed. ‘What’s going on here?’
Olivia sighed and went to stand by Maggie, one hand on her shoulder. ‘This is Irene’s daughter,’ she said gently.
William stared at them both in astonishment. Then, having digested this bombshell, he rammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the tips of his scuffed boots. ‘If I’m honest with myself,’ he muttered. ‘It isn’t really a surprise, but I still find it hard to believe she could deceive me all these years with something so important.’ He paused, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the two young women. ‘But I know Irene very well, and she was always good at hiding things from me. Yet there’s something else going on here. Something far more serious that’s been eating away at her for the last year or so.’
Olivia eyed him coldly. ‘I think disowning one’s daughter is serious enough, don’t you, William? Not only did she put her up for adoption when she was only hours old, she denied all knowledge of her last year when Maggie came to find her.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, William. I know this isn’t the best of times to tell you something like this, but it’s better you know the truth.’
William nodded and his eyes were sad and bewildered as he looked towards the closed door where the medical staff were working on Irene. ‘She had so much,’ he breathed. ‘And she threw it all away.’ He looked back at Olivia and Maggie. ‘Why would anyone do that?’
Olivia shrugged. ‘Irene was always her own worst enemy. She liked to manipulate and play on people’s emotions. Enjoyed the power of pulling strings and watching people dance to her tune. Jealousy ruled her, and she couldn’t bear anyone else getting the attention. I think that had a lot to do with the way she treated me as a kid. She wanted Mum to herself. Yet, underneath all that spite, I have the feeling she was desperately lonely.’
The doctor emerged from Irene’s room, his expression solemn. ‘You can go back in now, William. She’s medicated and will sleep for a while. But her vital signs are not good. You should prepare yourself for the worst.’
Olivia rested a consoling hand on William’s arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.
‘She needs me,’ he muttered. ‘I must go to her.’
Olivia was in the process of turning away when he caught her wrist. ‘Thank you for coming, and for telling me about Maggie. But, Irene is still my wife, and if it’s any consolation, I will stay with her until the end. She’ll need the reassurance of knowing she isn’t alone any more – that she was loved.’
> Olivia and Maggie left the hospital and found Sam leaning against the utility in the car park. They were both grateful for his silence as they dumped Olivia’s bag in the back and clambered in.
Olivia stared out of the window, barely noticing the scenery. The weariness that almost overwhelmed her had only a little to do with the lack of sleep and the long hours on the wards. It was the knowledge that she too had thrown away her chance of making things better between herself and Irene. It was strange to feel so sad when there had been nothing but enmity between them. Strange to realise how alone she would be once Irene had died.
She sat there as Maggie and Sam murmured to one another and felt the isolation of an outsider. The singular, invisible barriers that now surrounded her had set her apart, and she realised the world could be a lonely place for someone who had no–one to call their own. Was this how Giles felt? Was this what drove him to flee back to England? She knew it must be, and silently vowed to write him a letter so it would be waiting for him when he reached Wimbledon. For although they could never be lovers, their friendship was too precious to discard.
‘Are you okay?’ Maggie’s hand was on her arm, her eyes concerned.
‘Not really,’ Olivia admitted.
Maggie nodded. ‘I know what you mean. I feel sorry for her, even after what she’s done. That must be a terrible way to die – not being able to speak or move – to be absolutely helpless. I’m sorry I lost it back there.’
‘It was understandable,’ muttered Olivia. ‘Irene always had the ability to stir up the emotions.’
Maggie blinked away the tears. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ she said impatiently. ‘I dislike her intensely, but seeing her like that – knowing she’s dying …’
‘Time we all had something to eat,’ said Sam as he pulled in at a roadhouse some minutes later. ‘A good slug of coffee and a fry–up will put us all in a better frame of mind.’
Olivia clambered down and breathed in the hot, humid air. Despite her surprising sorrow at Irene’s passing, she was already impatient with the gloomy thoughts that had beset her over the past few hours. Irene had chosen her own path in life, and Olivia couldn’t pretend to feel more than pity for her.
As for Giles; she came to the conclusion that his sudden departure had been just what she needed. It had forced her to realise how deep their friendship had been, and how much she had depended upon him. Had forced her to look at her life and take stock. This wasn’t the end, she realised, only a new beginning, and it was good to be alive.
She took in her surroundings with pleasure. The birds had returned three days after the hurricane and now the bush was alive with their songs. The sky was blue and clear, the sea sparkling with a million diamonds of light. ‘You’re right,’ she said as she linked arms with Maggie and Sam. ‘I’m starving.’
The enormous breakfast was washed down with cup after cup of coffee, and the three of them returned to the utility pleasantly sated.
‘Shouldn’t take more than a few hours to get up to Port Douglas,’ drawled Sam. ‘Enjoy the view, girls. It’s the best in the world.’
Olivia leaned back against the cracked leather upholstery and looked out of the window as Sam drove along the winding, twisting coastal road. Tall grasses swayed in the warm wind and the scent of flowers drifted up to them as they passed by the shallow tumbles of ebony rocks that spilled down to the beach.
The sea was turquoise beneath the cloudless sky, and where the tide had ebbed, it was lying in jewelled pools on sand the colour of palest coral. Tiny, deserted bays fringed the coastline, each sheltered by drifts of sand and rock and the sturdy grasses and shrubs that clung to life on the very edge of the road. This truly was paradise.
Olivia hadn’t really known what to expect, for when she’d been a child they had not had a car, and therefore hadn’t had the chance to explore further than Cairns. She was pleasantly surprised to find Port Douglas was just a sleepy settlement where the few houses were perched on rolling hills that swept down to the sea, only their roofs visible amongst the lush, verdant tropical surroundings.
Bright flowers peeked from beneath the canopy of palm trees and birds of every hue darted overhead. The town itself consisted of a single road lined with wooden buildings that were shaded by deep verandahs and elegant palms. The beach was sandy, the water blue and enticing.
‘Here we are,’ said Sam as he pulled in and switched off the engine. ‘Ma’s little corner of paradise. It would take a crow bar to get her out of here, and I can’t say I blame her.’
Olivia eyed the wooden bungalow with pleasure. She could fully understand Sam’s relative’s reluctance to move. It was perfect. The little house was similar to most in Australia. Constructed from timber, it was set on a gentle slope with views out to sea. The garden was neat behind the picket fence and the bougainvillea smothered the porch and clambered up the stone chimney to the corrugated iron roof. Palm trees and ferns gave shade to the windows, and the flyscreens and the door had recently been painted bright scarlet in contrast to the white walls.
‘Won’t she mind having so many visitors at once?’ Olivia eyed the house and saw the net curtain tweak at one of the windows. She was feeling nervous all of a sudden, and as it was an unusual emotion, she couldn’t analyse it.
Sam laughed. ‘The more the merrier,’ he said. ‘Ma knows we’re coming. I radioed through last night. She’s probably been cooking up a storm ever since.’
Olivia followed the other two up the neat path and admired the flowers. There were so many exotic varieties she couldn’t possibly have named them, but the roses were familiar and smelled wonderful.
She stood back as the door opened and a bustling little woman emerged. Sam’s mother–in–law had to be in her late seventies, but as she flung her arms around Sam’s waist and berated him for being late, Olivia realised she had the vibrancy of a much younger woman.
The grey hair had been neatly set in waves around a pleasant, homely face that was devoid of make–up. The skin was lined from too many years in the sun and reminded Olivia of a russet apple, yet that didn’t detract from the sharply intelligent blue eyes. Dressed in sprigged cotton, the sturdy little woman was the epitome of what everyone expected a grandmother to be – yet her sense of fun, of the ridiculous could be seen in the outrageous earrings, which swung back and forth as she talked and laughed and was introduced to Maggie.
‘I see you’re admiring my parrots,’ she said brightly as her gaze turned to Olivia and her fingers tweaked the earrings. ‘These are my favourites, but I’ve got lots more.’ She cocked her head, her eyes bright with interest. ‘You must be Olivia,’ she said as she held out her hand.
Olivia nodded and was a little disconcerted by the penetrating gaze that was fixed upon her. This elderly woman reminded her of someone, but for the life of her she couldn’t think who it could be. She shook the proffered hand, and smiled. ‘Good to meet you at last. I hope you don’t mind so many of us turning up at once?’
‘Glad you did,’ she replied firmly. ‘Got enough food indoors to feed a flaming army, so you’d better be hungry.’ She pushed the door open and waved them through. ‘Come in, come in. No point in standing outside. I expect you could do with a cuppa.’
Olivia followed the others into the narrow hall. The linoleum shone and the walls were colourful with row upon row of family photographs. She would have liked to stop and look at them, but they were being chivvied along and it would appear rude.
The sitting room was over–furnished, but highly polished, the scent of beeswax, almost, but not quite, stifling the aroma of cats. The curtains had been drawn to keep out the sun and it took her a moment to adjust to the dim light after the brightness outside.
Both armchairs were occupied by sleeping cats. The small table under the window was covered in a lace cloth and laid out for tea with what she guessed was the best china. A sideboard and low dresser took up most of the
room and were cluttered with ornaments and photographs. The carpet was a nightmare of orange and brown, which clashed horribly with the pink flowery curtains, but in a strange kind of way it didn’t matter. For there was a sense of home here, a feeling of peace and settled contentment.
‘Shove the cats off and sit down. I’ll make the tea.’
Olivia eyed the fat tabby with the baleful yellow glare and decided to let sleeping cats alone. She perched on the edge of a wooden chair by the over–laden table and grinned at Maggie. ‘Isn’t she lovely?’
Maggie grinned back and squeezed Sam’s hand. ‘Too right.’
Sam kissed the top of her head and perched on the arm of the chair. ‘Ma’s a one–off. Bonzer lady.’
‘What do we call her, Sam? She isn’t our relative, and it seems disrespectful to call her Ma all the time.’
The old woman came through from the kitchen at the back of the house. She was carrying a tea pot which she’d covered in a knitted cosy. Placing it carefully on the table beside Olivia, she stood back and folded her hands. She looked from Sam to Maggie and then down at Olivia. ‘I don’t mind you calling me Ma,’ she said finally. ‘After all, that’s what I am, and I’m proud of the name.’
Olivia wasn’t quite sure about all this. She didn’t want to offend this lovely old lady, but the English reticence was too firmly entrenched to show such disrespect to one so senior. The years of being brought up by Eva had indeed left their mark.
The old woman’s parrot earrings swung as she laughed and, after shoving the recalcitrant cat off the chair, she sat down. ‘You can call me whatever you like, my dear,’ she said. ‘But I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony. Your mother would have told you that, I’m sure.’
Olivia stilled. ‘My mother? What …? How would my mother …?’
The plump hand reached out and grasped her fingers. ‘You don’t remember me at all, do you, luv?’
Olivia’s mouth was dry and her pulse was racing as she shook her head.
Undercurrents Page 32
