by Jane Carter
‘Sunday.’
‘Did you give him a hug? Tell him you loved him? How much he meant to you? At the railway station I just said goodbye and thanks for having us all. I was in such a snit ’cause he wouldn’t come to Sydney to say goodbye. How do you think I feel right now?’
Rosie was silent for a minute. ‘Dad’s not going to …’ Swallowing, she just couldn’t get the word out. ‘I’m sorry, Di, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean it, well, I do, but it’s coming out all wrong.’ Her eyes filled with tears.
‘That’s ridiculous. Surely you can’t be saying that you resent the fact that all these years I’ve worked my guts out, without my family backing me all the way … And aren’t you forgetting one thing? That you’re the one getting Mog’s Hill, lock, stock and barrel. Come on.’
‘Yeah right, when?’
‘It might be sooner than you think. Be careful what you wish for …’
‘Well, it might be nice if you looked at things from my perspective. How would you like to be hanging on, waiting for twenty years? Twenty years, Di,’ Rosie said through gritted teeth. ‘How would you like that?’
Diana was silent. She seriously didn’t think she’d have waited around for twenty years. And how was that her fault, anyway?
‘That’s right, you got on with your life,’ Rosie answered for her. ‘I’m watching sons of farmers all around us, waiting, marking time, not going ahead and doing what they really want. All because they’re in line to inherit the farm. In these twenty years everything has changed so drastically in the bush. Farmers aren’t retiring. Mal is going crazy. He’s thinking he might want to do something else, feels he’s running out of time. And now all Patrick is thinking about is hops. It’s just not his thing.’
‘You know this isn’t my fault.’ Diana looked over at Rosie.
‘I know, of course it isn’t your fault, but it’s good to blame you.’
‘Oh Rosie,’ Diana started to laugh, ‘at least you’re making me laugh.’
‘I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny.’ Then Rosie started to laugh, too. ‘You’re right, it’s better than tears.’
* * *
The little car motored on down the highway through the black night with both sisters lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Diana decided to ask Rosie something else that had been on her mind for some time.
‘What’s the deal with you and Mal?’
‘I don’t think he knows what he wants at the moment. He won’t talk to me. My trouble is I don’t know if it’s me or our situation. I’ve tied him down with false promises and he’s resenting it, I think. If we’re exchanging confidences, what’s the go with Patrick?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘It didn’t look like nothing back there at Lost Valley. I’d be careful there.’ Rosie cast a glance over at her sister.
‘Why?’
‘He suffers from commitment phobia. Mal thinks his heart belongs to his first wife, Vanessa.’
What did she know about the man? She hadn’t told Rosie the truth though. It mightn’t be something, but it sure wasn’t nothing. She didn’t have a clue what was happening. She felt like scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Bits of her that were Charlie’s, bits that belonged to her children, her parents owned a couple of pieces, even— infuriatingly—Rosie. Now Patrick was angling for a piece, maybe a little piece she’d been holding on to all these years. She just didn’t know how to put them all together, how to make them fit so she could be a whole person again. Fractured, that’s how she felt. They all wanted a piece of her.
Silence clamped down in the little car as both sisters stared straight ahead down the darkened four lane highway. ‘I want Marnie to ring. I’m too scared to ring her.’
Diana remembered the scene before she left. Three white, stricken faces, clinging to whatever part of her they could hold on to.
‘I’ve got to go to Stella, I promised,’ she’d told them.
‘We can come too.’ Sienna was almost hysterical. ‘We’ll be very good. We can give Stella a massage and buy you coffee. We can.’
Diana stooped and picked up Sienna and hugged her. ‘I know. I wish you could come, but there’ll be lots of waiting around. Here you’ll have fun with Sam and Alex.’
She looked over Sienna’s head to Marnie with her boys at her side. ‘I’m sorry. This is the first time we’ve been separated since,’ she swallowed, ‘England.’ Even now, mentioning Charlie’s name was a no go; she just choked on the word.
‘It’s okay, they’ll be fine. We’ll take good care of them, won’t we, boys?’
Diana reluctantly passed Sienna, who was now sobbing brokenly, to Marnie and tried to pick up Saskia who had wound herself round one of her legs.
‘Come on, sweetheart. I need you to be strong and brave. It will only be for a couple of days. I promise I’ll be back in two days, no matter what … Oh God.’ Diana buried her head in the soft curls. ‘I’m not sure I can do this either.’ She knelt down to hug Milo.
‘It’ll be okay, Mum, I’ll look after them.’ Milo said doggedly. ‘Stella needs you.’
Diana rose, gave Saskia’s hand to Milo and got into the car. As she was doing up her seatbelt, Sienna broke free and ran to the car pulling at the handle. Marnie ran to her and pulled her back. Through the glass Diana could see the tears running down her face, the soundless, broken sobs.
‘Quickly, Rosie, let’s go.’
Maybe she’d ring Marnie later.
CHAPTER FORTY
Stella had never been in an intensive care ward before. Twenty-five years ago, in their local hospital, there hadn’t been one. This had a quiet sense of purpose about it. Not like those dramas on TV in the ER when everyone was screaming and running with trolleys in different directions. Here there were soft footfalls over the lino and rustling nurses, checking all the time; the machines with their satisfactory beeping, and Tom sedated, attached to all those tubes and monitors, just lying there. She watched his chest rise and fall and rise.
‘Don’t you dare leave me,’ she whispered for the thousandth time. She hoped he was getting the message. A couple of the other cubicles were occupied. Busy nurses disappeared behind the curtains and then reappeared with instruments and little trays. No one she knew. She wanted Will Talbot and the nurses from home. People she could trust. Diana and Rosie weren’t allowed in. They’d arrived last night about eight. They were outside somewhere. She was the only one allowed in and she couldn’t leave Tom. They’d lost Cody. She wasn’t about to lose Tom.
More tests. The young Indian doctor was thorough, she’d give him that; if only she had some idea what he was talking about. It was all so like the last time with Cody, jumbles of words that ended with ‘doing everything we can’. This time it would have to be good enough. Tom was going to get better. She so wanted out of here, this strange foreign place. She just wanted to take Tom home.
The specialist had been, once. Now all she had recourse to was the young Indian, and he was so busy. Everyone was busy except her. Tom, Tom, Tom, what’s happening to you? Stella sighed. Perhaps Diana and Rosie understood it better.
‘Don’t you leave me. Don’t you dare.’ She touched Tom’s fingers for reassurance.
There was movement behind her but she didn’t look up.
‘Mrs Crawford? We’re just going to take your husband for a scan, we won’t be long. Why don’t you go out and get some air, go for a walk? Your daughters are waiting outside.’
These were two new faces—one young with pink scrubbed cheeks, and the older one whose grey eyes looked at her sympathetically. The shift had changed. They took Tom in no time at all and she stiffly made her way out to the waiting room.
Rosie sprung up as she entered the room where they were waiting. It must be dreadful for them on those hard vinyl chairs. She felt so drained and useless.
‘Mum, come and sit down.’
‘No, I don’t want to sit. Let’s go outside.’
They walked out of the hospital. It
was freezing. The wind must be coming right off the snowfields. Diana put her arm round her, for a hug or just to keep warm. She realised it was her that was shivering.
‘Do you want to eat?’ Diana asked.
‘No, I do not want to eat, I want to know what’s going on. Have you two any idea what’s happening?’
Diana shook her head and they both looked at Rosie.
‘Not really. Why don’t we ring Will? Have you been reading Dad’s notes?’
‘What notes?’
‘The ones they keep at the end of the bed. We could tell Will what’s in them and he could decipher them. I’ll duck in and have a look.’
Rosie turned and left them in the shelter of a brick wall. At least it was out of the wind. If only she didn’t feel so tired.
What a fool she was, not familiar in the ways of a hospital. It was just like before. ‘No, Mrs Crawford, nothing yet, we don’t know anything. Just wait till Cody’s tests are back.’ Or, ‘I don’t know where the specialist is, he’ll be in to see you when he’s seen Cody.’ Or worse, ‘Don’t you worry, love, we’re doing everything we can.’ And that was exactly nothing at all.
‘I should have listened to you,’ said Stella. ‘Your father’s been under so much strain with the drought, wool prices, sheep prices, you name it—and if he was suffering depression as well, maybe it’s done this.’
‘We don’t know for sure that Dad has depression,’ said Diana. ‘I mean full-blown depression. It could be stress, or it could just be one of those things. Wait till they tell us some of the results of the tests. It was probably us, me, all the added pressure.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Diana.’ She couldn’t seriously be blaming herself. ‘Why won’t anyone tell us what’s going on?’ It was so frustrating. ‘How are the children getting on? They must be terribly worried without you.’
Diana laughed. ‘I think the children are being looked after beautifully. I spoke to them just a little while ago. They’re having a whale of a time.’
She was trying too hard. Stella could hear the worry in her voice. It was an impossible situation. She was so glad her daughters were here with her but it must be awful for the children.
Rosie came back out, shoulders hunched against the wind. ‘Hey, I’ve written down some of the names of these tests. Let’s ring Will.’
The three of them walked back inside and after talking to Will, Stella felt she knew a little more. Not that it was doing her much good. As Will had said, they had to be patient and wait for the results. Everything was being done that he could think of. Trust them, he said. If only she could. She examined Tom’s face lying on the pillows. He had such a nice face, kind and strong. He looked pale. There were some more little skin cancers on his forehead to come off; she must get him to see Will about them. When they got home.
‘Oh! Tom, don’t you dare leave me.’
She hadn’t wanted to marry a farmer. Escaped to the city as soon as she could, then she’d met Tom again and fell like the proverbial sack of spuds. She’d known him for years but they’d never gone out. She supposed she’d had to get the city boys out of her system. It was such a different world in the city. Everything moved so quickly; people seemed to skim over the essentials. There was no time to do anything except play catch up with everyone else.
Tom wasn’t really a farmer, he was a sheep man. All he’d ever wanted to do was grow fine wool on beautiful big-framed sheep. He loved his sheep. He’d inherited the flock of Saxon blood sheep from his father and every year they’d bought rams from Merrigal. He’d only been saying the other day how he’d love to take Milo with him next time. That would be the fourth generation of Crawfords to buy rams from them. Oh Tom, there’s so much yet to do!
Forty-two years together. They had a real-life marriage with ups and downs as everyone had, but they’d always had each other. She’d never have got over Cody’s death without him. Tom hadn’t cried when Cody had died; she hadn’t either, not for a long time.
He’d cried when Phillipa was born. When he held her, wrapped in the flannelette hospital blanket, and she’d blinked up at him with that knowing look of the newborn. He’d had tears in his eyes then.
‘Don’t you leave me now, Tom. Hold on, my darling, hold on.’
She had strength to draw on somewhere. She would find it.
Enough for the two of them.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
A little later, her mother came back out to join them as they sat eating cardboard sandwiches at the hospital canteen. Diana had opted for a juice rather than face another tasteless cup of coffee. They were making plans. At least Rosie and her mother were.
She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.
‘Philly will be quite useful. She’s getting holidays soon and she can stay with you. Or I can. Between us, we could manage, I think.’ Rosie looked over at Diana as if throwing down a challenge.
‘They’re talking about putting in four stents tomorrow during the angioplasty. Four, that’s quite a lot, you know.’ Her mother was sounding a little too bright. ‘I couldn’t believe it when the doctor told us. Four! We’re so lucky Tom is still alive.’ Stella returned to the subject at hand. ‘Diana and the children can be with us. I don’t want Diana to go.’
‘Diana said she had to get back to an exhibition in September,’ Rosie said.
‘Well, it’s not September, yet.’
Diana just sat there. They were talking as though she wasn’t even there. One thing was becoming quite clear—Rosie wanted her out, and her mother seemed not to want her out of her sight. Well, she was getting sick to death of it.
‘I’m expected back in England, Mum.’
‘The last time you walked out we didn’t see you for twenty years.’
A minor exaggeration. Her mother wasn’t above stretching the truth to make a point.
‘I was upset. You and Dad just told me to get on with my life and there was nothing for me at Mog’s Hill. Pretty tough stuff.’
‘Diana, Diana, we were only wanting the best for you.’ Stella sounded as if she was going to burst into tears.
‘Didn’t seem like it from where I sat. You bought my ticket.’ She shouldn’t have said that.
Her mother just looked at her. Opening her mouth and then closing it again, she seemed to be having trouble finding the right words. ‘It wasn’t like that, Diana. Please. We went to the final exhibition for your year, do you remember? Two of your lecturers collared us and told us you had a really bright future ahead of you. To make sure you went overseas. You were so lucky to get the residency in London and you—you were hell-bent on coming back to the farm. We didn’t know how to stop you. So your father and I decided,’ she paused, taking a shaky breath, ‘what we decided. We didn’t know you were going to take it so hard, walk out the door and never talk to us for six months.’ She blinked away the tears. ‘And then we didn’t see you for ten years. I hope, now you have children, you can start to imagine how much that hurt us.’
‘I’m not sure I’m hearing this right. That was all for my own good? Rosie and Mal getting the farm was just because you wanted me to go to England? Don’t be ridiculous. What was wrong with sitting down to a discussion, like people generally do?’
‘You’re forgetting what you were like then. You were hard to get through to, strong-willed, stubborn. You wanted to come home and you were impossible to talk to.’
Diana looked from Rosie to her mother. Rosie appeared stunned. It must have been news for her, too.
‘Well, thank you very much. You were right. I have made a success of my career, so I guess I should thank you.’ Actually, thanking her parents was the last thing she felt like doing.
Diana was shaking as she rose and left the canteen, blindly walking down the corridor. If she wasn’t careful she’d hit out at the next person she met. Physical violence had never seemed so attractive, right now.
Starting with her family. So much pain. For so many years. And it was for her own good? Come on
.
‘Diana.’
She didn’t hear the voice as much as notice the hand on her arm, restraining her. She turned ready to lay into whoever it was.
‘Patrick.’ She looked blankly at him. ‘What are you doing here? Are the kids …?’
‘The kids are fine. What’s wrong?’
‘You don’t want to know. I’ve just had a session with my mother and Rosie. I’m out of here. I don’t suppose you have a car handy?’
‘Absolutely. I thought I’d see Stella and Tom first.’ His smile was rueful. ‘I wouldn’t like them to worry. Are you sure you want to go?’
‘I am certain I want to go, and if you want to talk to my mother, she’s down there, and my father is still in intensive care and not permitted visitors. They’re doing the angioplasty tomorrow, and he’ll be home the day after, apparently.’ Her voice felt raspy.
Patrick handed her his car keys. ‘Turn right as you go out the door.’
She felt his eyes follow her down the corridor, knew she was walking stiffly but she couldn’t do anything about it. She passed the darkened flower shop and the empty front desk. Outside, in the cold black night with thousands of stars twinkling above her, she felt a rage so deep it was making her tremble.
* * *
She wasn’t sure when Patrick rejoined her. It was damn cold in the car but at least it was out of the wind. He started the engine, but just sat there, not putting the car into gear.
‘They’re worried about you.’ He wasn’t smiling, just watching her carefully.
‘It’s a little late for worry, I’d say.’
‘What happened?’
‘My mother just told me the reason I was shoved out of the nest, very forcefully I might add.’
‘And?’ he prompted.
‘For my own good. How about that? I’m very angry. All those lost years.’ She closed her eyes and leant back against the soft leather. ‘I know I started growing up after I left Australia, but it was a bit like being thrown in at the deep end.’
The heating started to kick in and the frost on the windscreen began to melt away. Patrick put the windscreen wipers on once, twice, then turned them off.
