by Jane Carter
‘I don’t know. I haven’t been for a very long time.’ Stella looked round delightedly, at her grandchildren, at her daughter. ‘This is going to be so much fun.’
Diana gazed over Milo’s head at the countryside flying past. The grey-green gum trees, and cows and sheep and horses pasted onto grass, like a series of still life pictures.
‘Now the sun’s gone.’ Saskia’s nose was pressed to the window.
‘Typical,’ her mother said, ‘it’ll probably be raining in Sydney.’
‘The zoo.’ Sienna was still reading pamphlets. ‘Can we go to the zoo?’
* * *
Diana poured a coffee from the thermos, passing it over without spilling a drop. The kids had fallen asleep.
‘They are lovely children, Diana. A credit to you and Charlie.’
‘Charlie was a good dad,’ she said softly.
‘He definitely was a charmer.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad you saw some of that side of him.’ Diana bit her lip and swallowed her coffee. ‘He was different there, in London, wasn’t he? Did I ever tell you about the day I came home and discovered he and the children had decided to paint a huge mural on the living room wall? Everything was covered in paint—children, carpets, chair coverings. And there on the wall was this huge jungle scene with lions, swooping cockatoos, monkeys swinging on vines.’ Diana started to laugh. ‘Honestly, if you could have seen them standing there with these massive grins on their faces. It took me weeks to get the paint out of their hair and off the carpets. Oh, Charlie.’
‘Life with Charlie sounds like it was fun,’ her mother said. ‘I would have liked to have got to know him better.’
‘There you were in London for the first time, and I was suffering from exhaustion and baby blues, so it was lucky Charlie was nice to you.’ Diana frowned. ‘It was such a pity your first meeting was a total disaster.’
‘We got such a shock with you ringing and telling us you’d just got married and you’d be out on your honeymoon in just a few days. There was no time to take it all in. No time to organise anything here properly. I guess we were a little annoyed with you.’ Stella did look somewhat ashamed. ‘It was like we were going to lose you completely, when we’d always thought you’d come back, eventually.’ Both hands around the coffee, she sipped it carefully, against the rocking of the train. ‘Those were very black years after Cody died; she was so special, coming so late. After she died I just pushed everyone away.’
Diana stilled. This had to be the first time they’d talked about Cody together. ‘I felt it was my fault. I was looking after her and I just put her to bed.’ She paused. ‘I thought you blamed me.’
‘No, no, no, Diana, I blamed myself, and the guilt was too much. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t think enough about how you were all feeling.’ Stella looked out the window. ‘I felt if I could punish myself hard enough it would get better. It didn’t. Poor Shelley, the other day all she could ask was why, too. It brought it all back. It was such a terrible time for all of us. Then all I could think about was you coping alone when Charlie died and wishing I could have been there for you. You mustn’t punish yourself.’
Tears swimming in her eyes, Stella turned to study Diana. ‘You’ve got no idea how happy I am you came home. I don’t suppose you’d think about coming back, to live?’
‘Mum, it’s impossible. The kids are hurting too much. This grieving thing—it’s going to take time and work. They’ve got to go back. Me too. I think I got myself redirected when I went to Megan’s. She really is a brick.’
‘I’m glad, honestly, you get to accept death for what it is. There’s nothing you can do about it.’ Stella reached out and touched her knee. ‘And you have to stop blaming yourself. I had to stop blaming myself. I get sad sometimes, like when I see you and Rosie together and remember Cody running after the two of you all the time.’ Stella fell silent and turned to look out the window again.
‘I know,’ Diana said softly. ‘It wasn’t until I’d got through quite a few childhood illnesses that I realised I just wasn’t old enough, I didn’t know enough to have picked up that she was really sick. Then I stopped blaming myself so much. But I thought you—’
‘No, no, Diana. No, I didn’t. I’m so sorry.’
‘Rosie said something, too. We kind of excluded her, we were so busy taking the guilt on ourselves.’
‘You can’t make me feel worse than I already do. We deal with hard things in a way that protects ourselves.’
Diana thought that over. Self-protection. Yes, she knew all about that.
Soon they were in Sydney. Backyard after backyard after backyard. Paling fences, hills hoists, both houses and yards diminishing in size as they got closer to the centre of Sydney until they seemed minute, doll-sized. The train went rocketing past.
‘Where did you live, Mum, when you were in Sydney?’ Diana hadn’t ever heard much of her mother’s early pre-marriage days.
‘Kirribilli, in a poky little flat, quite close to the ferry.’ Stella laughed, remembering. ‘I worked in the city for four years on a women’s magazine, it’s not around anymore. I ended up in the fashion section. I did a bit of everything. It was a great job, I loved it. Then I came back for a holiday and met your dad at a dance, and that was that, really.’
‘So what was your dream, Mum?’
‘To be in fashion?’ She laughed dismissively. ‘But I’ve no idea as what. To travel maybe. I almost had my ticket saved when I went back for that dance. But that’s past history now.’ Stella smiled at Diana. ‘I got to go when Saskia was born. I only wish your father had come too.’
‘Dad’s never wanted to travel, has he?’
‘He always says he’s going to, so maybe one day.’
‘Well, you’ve just got to make him.’
Her mother looked a little wistful, gazing out as dark descended quickly, as it did in June, and the lights in the carriage came on.
Waking children, gathering rubbish, pulling the suitcases out, stuffing books and toys back into bags as the train pulled into Central made Diana appreciate having her mother there. There wasn’t a need to rush, she told herself, the train wasn’t going anywhere—it finished its long journey at Central. She pulled Sienna to her feet, helped her into her backpack and handed a bag to Milo.
Patrick was waiting on the platform for them. He wore a full-length cashmere overcoat over a white dress shirt and black tie. It wasn’t hard to deduce there was a dinner suit underneath the coat. He’d meant the ‘in and out’ comment. And Diana wasn’t put out.
‘Hello, I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?’ Stella reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek.
‘The train was only twenty minutes late.’
Patrick turned to her and bent to kiss her. He smelled good. Her cheek burned where his lips touched her.
‘Hello, Patrick. We’re sorry to hold you up. Why don’t we get a taxi and let you go on?’
Patrick’s eyebrows rose slightly as he studied her. ‘No problem, I’m not in a hurry.’ He picked up Saskia who suddenly went from half asleep to wide awake.
‘Hello, Patrick. Mummy said we could have a McDonald’s.’
Diana had to admit he took it all in his stride. Within a few minutes they were sitting at the McDonald’s at Central Railway station with two trays piled high with burgers, kids’ meals, coffees and cokes, and making plans for tomorrow, not that anyone was consulting her. Patrick seemed to have everything under control.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Diana had jumped nearly a foot the first time Patrick touched her in front of her mother, and it had just been a hand at her elbow. Three days, surely she could manage that.
And the house! The view was breathtaking—a vast blue ocean, a creamy-orange beach protected by rocky sandstone cliffs and hardly another house in sight. That was amazing for anywhere in Sydney.
The house itself was fairly unremarkable from the outside. Built in the fifties probably, red brick with square, white-painted
timber windows, the house was two storeys high, perched on the side of a cliff overlooking Bronte Beach. Inside, it had been completely gutted and redesigned. His brother owned the bottom floor and Patrick had the whole of the top. No wonder he said there was plenty of room.
‘My brother bought it years ago.’ He told them as he escorted them upstairs to his apartment. ‘He lives downstairs with Marnie and the boys. They’re away for the weekend.’
‘The kids were wondering if they were going to see Alex and Sam. That’s a pity, they all got on rather well.’
‘I’m sorry. I have a dinner to go to, but I will see you in the morning. Just give me a ring if there’s anything you need to know or if you’re worried.’
* * *
Patrick took them out on the boat the next day. Boat—it was a forty-five foot, sleek navy and chrome cruiser. The children were overawed. Diana sat on the long white leather couch, glass of Sav Blanc in hand, and tried not to feel too impressed. To cap it all, the day was perfect—considering it was the middle of winter—sunny and clear. There was just enough breeze to ruffle the water and heel the yachts. It was definitely a day to be on the harbour, everywhere you looked there were people on boats, from lone fishermen in tiny dinghies to the crowds on the green and yellow ferries.
‘Londoners would kill for a day like this in the middle of summer, let alone the middle of winter.’ Diana laughed to her mother as they left the wharf. Patrick was wearing shorts and a navy polo shirt and looking far too good for Diana’s liking. She did try not to look but as he was everywhere—untying ropes, racing to the wheel and pulling up fenders—that was a difficult one.
What was a total surprise was her mother. Stella came alive on the boat, pointing out landmarks: pretty Kirribilli House, one of the Prime Minister’s official residences, with its pointy roofs and painted wooden shutters, the velvety-green lawns stretching down to the water; and then racing over to the other side to show the children Government house, home to the Governor, with its square sandstone towers, almost hidden in the trees, and the extensive gardens surrounding it.
‘That’s where I lived, over there.’ She was back pointing to the north side. ‘I caught a ferry to work every day.’
Stella smiled at Diana. No wonder she knew her way around. Her enthusiasm was infectious. Diana was fascinated to see this new side of her mother emerging.
Then the shadow of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the great grey coathanger, loomed over them. They examined it thoroughly from the east side, from the west and underneath it, all of them calling up to hear the echoes. They rounded the Opera House, dodging ferries, and Patrick headed his powerful craft over to North Head. All the children were given a turn steering Flyaway. Diana had been offered one too, but had wisely turned it down. She didn’t need Patrick, standing as close as that. No, thank you.
Patrick had bought food from a delicatessen, just salamis and packets of chips and tomatoes and bread rolls. A no-fuss picnic, Patrick called it, Sydney style. They anchored just off the beach and ate as the roll from the small waves moved the boat gently up and down.
* * *
‘Anyone for a walk on the beach?’ Patrick came into the lounge room with a cricket bat under his arm. They’d returned half an hour ago and Diana and Stella were sitting with the children on Patrick’s comfortable sofas.
‘Yes.’ Three children jumped up.
Diana smiled at their enthusiasm. ‘No one would recognise you lot for the three that arrived in this country just eight weeks ago.’
‘Eight! It’s gone so quickly.’ Her mother made a face. ‘I might stay here I think, and start getting resigned to some peace and quiet.’
‘You won’t know yourselves when we’ve gone. Thank God for our lives back again, you’ll say.’
‘I think you may be wrong about that. But I might ring your father.’
Diana stood up. ‘Don’t do anything about dinner, Mum. We’ll order some fish and chips.’
‘Yeah.’ The children threw their arms up in the air and danced round the room. They all laughed at their exuberance.
‘Lord, you’re easily satisfied.’ Diana smiled over at Patrick.
‘It’s the best way for preparing you all for the return to English cuisine,’ he said. ‘We’ll pick up the stumps on the way out. Sam and Alex leave them in the room at the bottom of the stairs.’
Diana and Patrick followed more sedately as the three children raced down the stairs to the narrow back garden and then wound their way down the steep steps to the beach.
‘I don’t know how to thank you. We’ve had a wonderful day.’
‘So have I.’ Patrick grinned and threw the bat and stumps onto the sand, and reached up to guide her onto the flat rocks at the bottom of the steps. Taking his hands, she jumped. His grip was strong and she would have stumbled if he hadn’t held her steady.
Laser blue eyes met green and held briefly before she brushed past him and jumped down onto the sand. What was she reading in those eyes? He wasn’t saying much. He could see the situation was impossible both for her and for him. A woman with three kids. Wrong time, wrong place, no matter what the attraction. Surely he understood. He’d be sensible. How she hated that word. Patrick picked up the bat and stumps and followed her.
A hectic game of beach cricket followed. Patrick was bowling when Milo hit the ball clean over Diana’s head into the water behind her. Without thinking she dived in to get the ball.
She came up spluttering and teeth chattering, ‘It’s absolutely freezing,’ she cried, as she ran out of the water. ‘Milo, you’ll pay for that.’
‘Sorry, Mum.’ But he was giggling and Diana just tackled him, wet clothes and all, on to the sand. The two girls joined in and they were all suddenly a heap of arms and legs and wet jeans and howls of mirth.
They didn’t last much longer. The light was fading and Diana had managed to wet all of them to some extent. Shaking the sand out of her hair, she gasped, ‘First one home gets first shower.’ And the three were off; Saskia, as usual, doggedly trailing way behind.
Patrick reached down to give Diana a hand up and she stood brushing at the sand that covered her face and hair. ‘I can’t believe I went in the water. Why didn’t you tell me it was so cold?’
‘You didn’t ask.’ Patrick laughed at the astonishment on her face. ‘You just dived in.’
‘Story of my life,’ she muttered. ‘Come on, they’ll put sand all through your house if we don’t catch them.’
* * *
‘It’s so lovely to be warm and dry.’ Diana sank into one of the white leather lounges.
‘You are totally mad,’ said Stella. ‘You know it’s winter. Thank heavens you didn’t hurt yourself.’ She shook her head and got to her feet. ‘I’m going to read Saskia a story, Milo’s got his phone and Sienna is engrossed in her book.’
‘Thank you, Mum.’ Diana settled back and looked around the room. The decorating theme was white on white: square white furniture, white walls and white floor tiles. Of course the view was fantastic, but the room lacked the warmth of Lost Valley. Missing were the many personal touches—it all was a bit sparse. They’d managed to clutter the place up a bit with her kid’s paraphernalia—heaped towels, books and all their bags. She wondered how Patrick felt about the mess. He walked in with a bottle of wine and three glasses.
‘If I didn’t know better I’d say a different person lived in this home to the one who lives at Lost Valley,’ Diana said, reaching to take the glass offered to her.
‘Perceptive of you. I’d say you were right.’
Diana looked at Patrick over the top of her glass as he stretched out his legs in the chair opposite her.
‘Sean kept this for me to use after Van and I broke up. Marnie had it decorated. For me it’s just a place to stay.’
‘So your heart’s in Lost Valley?’
He sat up and looked at her. ‘Lost Valley was my salvation. My cows are pretty straightforward. Give them enough water, grass and a bull once a
year, and they’re grateful and happy. I quite enjoy pottering about at the farm,’ he said. ‘So what have you got planned for tomorrow? I’ll be leaving pretty early but I’ll be back for dinner.’
Diana was more than a little frustrated. Just when things were getting interesting he veered away and closed doors. There was a lot more she wanted to ask.
* * *
They did the zoo the next day. Caught the ferry from Circular Quay across to the zoo and had nearly walked half the way up the steep hill before Diana and Stella realised there was a cable car that would have taken them up. They lunched at the zoo and found some more wallabies for Saskia. Sitting on the ferry on the way back, the kids were quiet, looking at the water burbling past. Diana and Stella exchanged glances.
‘That was pretty successful,’ Stella said.’
‘Brilliant.’ Diana grinned at her. ‘I don’t think they’ll ever forget this time with you.’
Her mother didn’t answer.
Later that afternoon shopping was the aim and they found a magnificent shopping mall in Bondi, all light and space.
Sienna looked around in wonder. ‘They’re bringing the outside in, Mummy!’
It may not have been quite as big as Brent Cross, but nearly, and they found babyccinos and cakes with pink icing. Diana was just returning from the toilets with Saskia and Milo, who were flagging a bit and very ready to go home.
‘Surely everyone’s had enough?’
‘Please, Mummy, just one more shop, and then Stella said she’d show me where they did the shoot.’
‘What shoot?’ Diana looked curiously from her daughter to her mother, who took a large sip of her coffee.
‘I was just telling Sienna about the time I had to find green shoes to go with a dress they wanted to photograph, and I searched high and low until I found a little shop not far from here that had one pair of green, hand-made shoes. I raced them back just in time to find the model had size ten feet and they didn’t remotely fit.’
‘What did you do?’
