‘Those sheep,’ he said, indicating the neighbour’s small flock peering with their customary moronic curiosity through the fence. ‘Are they carnivorous?’
Rose gave a snort of laughter, this was so unexpected. James laughed, too.
‘They just don’t look like Australian sheep,’ he said.
‘Don’t they? You know, I think I managed to get through thirteen years in Australia without ever sighting an actual live sheep. I ate plenty though!’
They both laughed again, and James was able to look properly at this woman, so elegant in her mauve and charcoal suit, with her slender upright figure, her sleek silver hair.
She’s beautiful. Cripes, she must be getting on for seventy, and she’s bloody beautiful!
‘My wife,’ he began, and broke off. ‘I did tell you about my wife? Silver?’ Rose nodded. ‘My wife asked me the other night if I ever thought about what you would be like now,’ he continued. ‘And I said… I said…’ Suddenly he wished he hadn’t started this, it sounded impertinent. But he had to forge on now. ‘I said I imagined you either huntin’ with hounds, or as a little brown wren.’
His mother smiled. It was, he registered, his own flirtatious smile. ‘Wrong on both counts then!’ she admonished. ‘No hounds, no brown. Although I do agree that chocolate is taking over from aubergine… ’ she added thoughtfully, and then waved the notion aside.
He could see Deb in her, too, Deb older of course – and yet somehow more youthful, too, because there was actually less tension in Rose’s face and body than in his sister’s, even though his mother was clearly nervous.
Well, that’s okay, I am, too
. But seeing
himself
mirrored in those bright blue eyes, the skin still lively with its coppery glow: that was
so
strange. Beyond strange. How could he ever have forgotten this woman’s… presence? He wished again that Silver was with him; she’d be fascinated. And if Silver were here she’d know what to say, which would be terrific because he was having a hell of a lot of trouble just now thinking of anything.
‘Roland seems like a really nice guy,’ he offered.
‘He is; awfully nice,’ said Rose, smiling.
Oh, please! Awfully nice? I sound like the vicar’s wife!
‘How long have you been married?’
‘Oh, let me… Nine years now.’
‘I didn’t… I don’t think I ever knew that you and Dad actually divorced.’
‘Really? Oh. So he never remarried?’
‘No. He seemed to have plenty of, uh, lady friends though.’
There was a little silence. ‘Well,’ Rose said, ‘that stands to reason. Alex was a nice man, too. I wonder why he never remarried?’
‘Maybe he didn’t want to risk it. You know, happening again.’
‘Maybe.’ They were both quiet again. James put his teacup down firmly. He had to do it; he had to ask the question.
Ask it now!
‘Why’d you do it, Rose? Mum?’ He laughed awkwardly. ‘I don’t know what to call you!’
‘I know, it’s strange. Maybe Rose is best. I haven’t been “Mum” or “Mummy” for nearly forty years.’
‘So…
Why?
Did you have a boyfriend? Is that who was in the car?’
Rose closed her eyes momentarily, gathering herself.
How long have I been waiting for one of them to ask me these things? And didn’t even know I was?
‘No, no. Not a boyfriend. That was a young woman in the car, a girl I’d met. Brenda Simmons.’
‘So who was Brenda Simmons?’
‘She was the receptionist at the local dentist’s. Robert was having some fillings done and I just got talking to her one day. Well, she heard my accent first, that was it. She was mad keen to go to England but she didn’t want to go on her own, she was nervous. It was still a big deal in those days. I used to daydream about it… but I didn’t know she’d come round like that on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t
planned
, James, believe me. There was just that one Qantas flight that night and there’d been some cancellations. It seemed like… now, or never.’
‘But if it was just her, how come you got in the back seat?’
‘Oh. I see.’ And she could see it, too, suddenly, through their eyes. There in that suburban living room, peering out…‘Her brother was driving; it was his car. He worked for Qantas and he could get her a cheap ticket. That’s how she knew about the cancellations.’
‘But how did
you
afford it?’ James asked. ‘Deborah’s always wondered that, she said plane tickets were incredibly expensive back then. She used to listen in on people speculating, you know, the neighbours. “How on earth did she afford it?”’
‘Oh, I can imagine!’ said his mother tartly. ‘“Must’ve had a fancy man.” Or whatever it was they would’ve said. “A feller.”’ She pulled a wry face. ‘Oh, it was such a tight, judgemental little world! Great for you kids, but for me…’
Their cups were empty. She poured them both more coffee. James saw himself and his mother as though from outside the room: the tasteful setting, the china cups.
It’s like we’re in some ridiculous English play
.
‘Do you remember I used to do dressmaking at home?’ Rose asked. He shook his head, but even as he did so the memories were suddenly there: the pieces of flimsy white pattern paper laid out like a puzzle on the dining room table, the hungry sound the big gold scissors made as they ate through the layers of fabric.
Snick, snack
.
‘Wait, yes,’ he said. ‘I do remember that. The sewing machine, and how your hands sort of spread the material out as it went through… ’
She was regarding him with an odd expression. Curious, and a little sad. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘That’s right. I didn’t know what you might —’
‘I really liked the way the material kind of pooled on the floor in front of it.’
‘Yes,’ she said again, and they were quiet a moment, and then Rose lifted her chin and went on. ‘So: that was how I earned my own money, making dresses for the women around the neighbourhood. Special occasion wear, that was my thing, but I could run up a sundress in half an hour, too. No overheads, and I put every penny away in my own bank account. I paid for the ticket out of that. Well, Brenda’s brother paid for it initially, because of course the banks were all shut that evening. But I had some withdrawal slips in my passbook.’
James had been listening intently. He smiled at this reference to a bygone age. ‘Gosh, I’d almost forgotten passbooks. Today you just would’ve transferred it online.’
‘My dear James, today I’d just pull out my Gold Visa card!’ Rose smiled back at him and he had that giddy sensation again, of looking into a mirror at his own charming smile.
This is me, what I’m made of!
For a moment he felt intoxicated, a champagne-like headiness. But he pulled himself back.
I have to ask. I have to find out.
‘But…
why
? Were you just homesick? Robert thinks you were; so homesick you just couldn’t bear it.’
‘Oh, James. I wish that were it; it sounds so much nicer than the truth.’
‘Well, what
was
the truth?’
‘I just – I just wanted to have fun!’
He stared at her. Was it incomprehension? Disgust?
How can I make him understand?
She leaned forward urgently. ‘I’d left home, pregnant, before I turned eighteen. And by the time I was twenty-five I had four children. Do you see, James? The London I’d left behind was such a grey, dreary city, it was so
grim
– and then it suddenly turned into Swinging London. The grooviest place in the world. While I was on the
other
side of the world, stuck in the suburbs with four kids who seemed to do nothing but squabble all the time – sorry, not you, you never squabbled, but the others all did – and a well-meaning middle-aged husband who didn’t have a clue. Making mother-of-the-bride outfits.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed drily. ‘I can imagine
fun
wasn’t very thick on the ground.’
‘I felt like I was going
mad
. I’d be helping cut sandwiches at the Mother’s Club tuckshop or sorting out the homework and the school shoes and who had sport tomorrow, and all the time I had this vision of myself walking down Carnaby Street wearing white lipstick and a miniskirt and dangly plastic op-art earrings. Tight shiny leather boots. Granny glasses! I wanted to be a teenager again,
a young woman at least. I was still only thirty when I left. It sounds so selfish, to leave all of you for… that. So immature. But that’s what I
was
.’
James was silent. She could see him struggling with what she’d said, trying to make sense of it.
‘But couldn’t you have had fun in Melbourne?’ he asked at last. ‘I don’t know, gone to dances and stuff? Dad wouldn’t have minded you going out, surely, if he’d known how you felt.’
‘It just… wasn’t… possible,’ Rose told him, leaving a weight like a judge’s sentence between each word. ‘You have no idea how conservative Australia was then. I mean, people looked at me sideways when I went into the city without
gloves
on. Respectable married women didn’t do that! They certainly didn’t go to dances, not the same dances the teenagers were going to. And besides, it wasn’t
London.
I used to stand in the newsagent and read that pop paper, what was it,
Go-Set
, and I just
despised
it all for a poor antipodean imitation of the real thing.’
‘You despised it.’ Suddenly James felt terribly cooped up. Restless.
I need to go for a swim
, he thought. He wanted to be out of there, away from this pleasant room and this poised older woman.
I’m… angry
, he realised, and could hardly bear the unfamiliar sensation. He didn’t know what he might do next.
‘So you were bored,’ he said tightly. ‘And that was a good enough reason to walk out like that? To just…
leave
us? Leave Dad to bring up four kids? There has to be more to it than that. Dad wasn’t…
bad
to you, was he?’
‘No no, never!’
Does he think Alex abused me? Surely not!
‘He was never anything but kind. That was partly it: he was more like a kind uncle or something. I couldn’t believe he was my husband. The… the passion had long gone.’
‘So that was
it
? Lots of marriages do very well without passion, you know.’
Like mine
, he thought.
‘I know. But lots more don’t. You’re married; what would your
wife feel like if there was no…Would she be happy with that?’
‘I…’
Is she? Silver? Happy? Stick to the point!
‘That’s not the point.’
Ask her, ask her!
‘How come you never got in touch with us? Not even on our
birthdays
?’ His voice sounded so plaintive, suddenly, so childlike.
Oh no
, he thought,
don’t sound like that. God, don’t cry!
‘But I
did!
I wrote to you for years, I
tried
to stay in touch! But there was never any reply.’
James looked at her, truly uncomprehending. Disbelieving.
Well, that has to be bullshit.
The thought showed plainly on his face.
‘It’s
true
!’ Rose cried out. ‘In the end I just had to accept that Alex believed it was for the best if there wasn’t any contact. Oh! No matter what I say it can’t ever be enough!’ She flung her hands up, covering her face. ‘I am so sorry!’ he heard her say. When she took her hands away, her face, for the first time, was not assured or charming. It was anguished. ‘Oh, James! I know it was wrong.
Wasn’t
it? It’s not forgivable, what I did, I know that.’
James got up and in two steps was at the glass door. His hand was on the doorhandle but he didn’t turn it, just stood there facing the garden and the curious sheep but not seeing them. There was a storm coming at him, that’s how it felt; he could actually
see
the emotions – not the anger, that wasn’t the main thing, it was all that pent-up longing, the years and years of yearning and pretending that he had never acknowledged until now – approaching him, reaching him, sweeping through. He put his arms up on the glass. He didn’t try to fight the tears, they just coursed down his face. He let his body go through it, let it buffet him, like pushing through waves in the surf.
And such was his resilient nature that even before this tempest had passed, he could see an intimation of light, a promise of sun.
I’ve found her now
, that was the thought that came.
She’s back; I’ve got her back.
From behind him at that moment came his mother’s voice, thick with tears but daring to be hopeful. ‘But, James? Is it possible… Now
that you’ve found me, if you could manage to forgive me… well, we’ve got each other back.’
Her thought was so like his, it was as though she was a part of him.
She’s what I’m made of!
Without warning a laugh bubbled up and burst from his mouth and he turned quickly. She rose from her seat as he came towards her and they held each other. For the first time, they embraced. They were both laughing, both crying, a mess. Together.
CHAPTER 10
Deborah always rang him, Robert had noticed, when it was likely that his mobile phone would be switched off. It offended him: he was sure she did it so that she could avoid actually talking to him. But as he listened to the message she’d left, his indignation was smothered by guilt.
‘Hi, Robert,’ said his sister’s cool recorded voice. ‘Just wondering if you’ve heard from Dad’s GP yet about the assessment. It’s been two weeks, hasn’t it? Surely he’s got the results by now. Could you find out and let me know?’
You can’t evade this any longer
, he told himself sternly.
You’re letting Dad down, you’re letting the whole family down.
He rang Deborah back, relieved to get her voicemail, and then ashamed that he was guilty of the same tactic she’d used.
‘Hello, Deborah!’ he said. The false heartiness of his voice embarrassed him. ‘Just spoke with Dad’s GP a day or two ago, actually, after he forwarded the assessment results. Best we meet, I think. Shall we, ah, shall we leave it till after James gets back?’