The Long Road Home, page 20
‘I’m sorry, Matilda, but if I stop, let myself cry, I might never stop,’ Danni said gently. Rick looked at his older sister. Her eyes were full and glistening. She cleared her throat and dragged her sleeve roughly across her face. ‘Let’s at least find Mum’s Will and see if she left us any instructions.’ She went over to the filing cabinet and pulled the top drawer out.
‘The kids are going to be devastated. They’re only just coming to terms with losing their grandfather,’ Matilda said.
‘Hmm,’ Danni said. ‘Here, go through these,’ she said, handing a pile of files from the metal cabinet to Rick. He sat down on the floor and opened the first one. He was a little scared. A part of him was keen to go through the office that had been out of bounds his whole life. Another part of him didn’t want to know what was in his mother’s Will – if it cut him out or didn’t acknowledge him fully or handed everything over to him. Either way had a downside. A selfish part of him wished he’d gone to Ballarat after all. He sighed. He was here and he had to do this. He sat on the floor and opened the file. He let out a sigh of relief at seeing what looked like a heap of articles about farming torn out of magazines and newspapers. Didn’t do paperwork, my arse. It probably wasn’t worth going through, but he would in case there was something important slipped in between the pages. And at least he was doing something that didn’t require too much brain power.
‘Did Adrian tell you Mum came to see me yesterday?’ Rick said, turning each piece of paper over slowly.
‘No. How was she?’ Matilda said.
‘She seemed weird. She said pretty much the same as what she wrote in the letter – sort of. And made about as much sense.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ Danni said.
‘Or me?’ Matilda said, going through a file of her own.
‘I didn’t see the point. It wasn’t really anything all that new. And I told you when I saw her out here the other day that she was a bit off and you said she was just grieving.’ And you weren’t exactly nice about it, either. He tried to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice, though a part of him wanted to snap that both his sisters had shut him down. But this was all hard enough. He hadn’t figured out how he felt yet. Just figured he was in a state of shock. He kept thinking about his mother lying in the back of the ambulance on the way into town to the hospital. Someone – who? Or was he imagining it? – had said she’d then be flown to Adelaide for the autopsy. He really hoped Moira and Ron wouldn’t blame themselves for not checking up on Maureen more this past week or so. No doubt that’s where Danni’s anger was coming from, and Matilda’s overwhelming sadness – each thinking that if she’d had a better, different, relationship with her mother they might not be here, doing this. Rick felt numb. And, if he was being honest, a little bit antsy about what his future held.
‘This place is a lot more ordered than I would have thought, given Dad reckoned he didn’t write anything down,’ Rick said.
‘Well, he spent enough time in here,’ Matilda said.
‘Lots of these files are in Mum’s handwriting,’ Danni said, ‘so she must have been allowed to be involved at some point.’
‘Yeah, about thirty years ago I’d say. When they were first married,’ Matilda said. Rick felt the hot creep of shame making its way up his neck. He’d done the same with Alice, let her set up his filing system and then basically cut her out of everything to do with anything. He’d been an arsehole on so many levels – and to his detriment. Beyond the obvious one of losing her completely. Too late he’d realised how clever and capable she was. But even if he’d realised soon enough, he probably still wouldn’t have found the strength to admit it out loud. Anthea had helped him see he’d been threatened by Alice.
They’d been there for ages when suddenly Matilda called out from the hallway, having got up to stretch her legs, Rick supposed. He’d heard the floorboards under the carpet creaking as she walked slowly up and down. Most likely she was avoiding being in the claustrophobic office or was already bored with their task. ‘Hey, don’t you think it’s weird that there are no baby photos of Rick? Like baby baby. There’s none of him before he’s walking. That’s weird. How come I’ve never noticed that before? Have you guys?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Danni said, getting up.
Rick stayed seated on the floor. He’d noticed it years back and had asked his mum. He knew the photos and their exact positions on the walls on each side of the hall by heart – he’d spent a lot of time waiting outside his father’s office as a child, so badly wanting to be invited in and to form an attachment with his old man. Part of a memory was tugging at him. He froze as it dissolved again in an attempt to stop it going. He couldn’t now remember what his mother had said the reason was. But he could picture her – the quick, nervous flick of her head, twisted mouth, offhand laugh.
‘Further proof they never liked me,’ he called now, trying to sound light, but failing.
‘Oh, stop with your neglected-middle-child crap. I’m sure there are plenty and they just didn’t bother putting them up. Or took them down to make space for the ones of the grandkids. Or maybe they didn’t have a camera when they had you,’ Danni said.
‘Well, they had a camera when they had you – you’re everywhere. And Matilda.’
‘It’s not a competition, Rick. Or whatever. God, we’re going to have to divvy up the family photos. What a nightmare,’ Danni said.
He could hear the creaking again as Danni and Matilda moved around. He pictured them peering at each of the dozens of framed images.
‘See,’ Matilda said, sounding triumphant.
‘You’re right. There’s not one baby photo of him. That is weird.’
Rick tried to ignore them. He finished the folder, put it aside and grabbed another one. This one seemed to be insurance product disclosure statements. He didn’t read anything, just flicked through and tried to concentrate on finding the Will. He suspected he was on a fool’s errand, because the papers in the files seemed to be reasonably well ordered and subjects adequately grouped together. But he was okay with sitting with his thoughts and looking like he was doing something, contributing somehow.
He could hear the girls muttering, still moving around out in the hall – no doubt Danni trying to prove Matilda wrong.
He felt a sudden tug of annoyance at himself for not pressing his mother again more recently about the whereabouts of his baby photos – especially in the days since Joseph’s death. Maybe it had something to do with what she’d been trying to say yesterday, and in the letter. He pushed the frustration away, got to the end of the file and put it aside.
The girls came back into the room.
‘What if he’s not even related to us?’ Matilda said with a laugh. ‘That would explain a lot. The alien child.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Danni said.
‘Don’t call me stupid.’
‘Well, it was a pretty stupid thing to say.’
‘I was only joking.’
‘It’s not really the time to be joking, is it?’
‘Stop fighting, you two. It won’t help anything,’ Rick said.
‘Shut up, Rick.’
‘Yeah, alien child.’
‘What are you, twelve? And what do you two care that there are no photos of me, anyway? I’m the one who should be upset.’
‘Are you?’ Matilda said.
Rick shrugged so he didn’t have to answer. Not really. Yes.
‘You’ve been watching too many episodes of Midsomer Murders or Criminal Minds, or whatever,’ Danni said. ‘Come on, focus. I want to at least find Mum’s Will. I have to get to work by six,’ she said, checking her watch.
‘You’re not going to work after …?’ Matilda said, staring at Danni.
‘Of course. Me staying at home or here moping isn’t going to help anyone. And Mum’s dead, remember?’
Rick was a little shocked at Danni’s tone. She was ordinarily a bit cold and aloof, but she’d practically just spat the words out.
‘We don’t need reminding, Danni,’ Matilda said. ‘I’m sorry if I’m being nosey, but I want to know why there are no photos of Rick as a baby. Ridicule me all you want, but something doesn’t feel right about it.’
‘Hey, I’m right here.’ Rick attempted to laugh to provide a circuit breaker.
‘Miss Marple,’ Danni said, ignoring Rick, ‘how about you put your detection skills to the test and help us?’
‘I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest. Sorry, Danni, but I think I’m just going to sit here for a bit. I feel sad.’
‘We all feel sad, Matilda, but giving in to it won’t help,’ Danni said, a little gentler this time.
‘Well, being stoic and not crying isn’t helping, either. And it clearly didn’t help Mum, did it?’ Matilda said, slumping into the chair further and crossing her arms over her chest.
‘I don’t like being an orphan,’ she said after a few minutes when the only sounds were the turning over of papers and the metallic thump and slide of the opening and closing of the filing cabinet.
‘Well, you’d better get used to it. Anyway, you’re twenty-eight and have two kids of your own. If anyone should feel sad and lonely, it’s Rick,’ Danni said.
‘Why me?’ Rick looked up suddenly. Does she know something about the missing photos, after all? He still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that was bigger than farms and the missing photos.
‘Because you’re single and childless. Duh,’ Danni said.
‘Hey, did you see Alice’s single again now, too?’ Matilda said.
‘I did. We connected online again. And I spoke to her last week, actually.’
‘Don’t go getting any ideas. Never going to happen,’ Matilda said.
‘Yeah. She’s too good for you,’ Danni said.
‘Jeez, thanks a lot.’
‘Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant she’s clearly moved on. Bright lights, big city, and all. She’s certainly no longer little Alice from Hope Springs.’
‘I don’t think she’s changed a bit – well, not who she is inside. I spoke to her at Ruth Stanley’s funeral as well.’
‘Yes, ooh, that got tongues wagging,’ Matilda said.
‘As if I give a shit,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘This place … What they don’t know, they make up.’
‘What’s the deal with all the stuff about narcissism and toxic families she’s plastering all over the place online?’ Danni asked.
‘You’d have to ask her,’ Rick said.
‘Just because someone shares something doesn’t mean it’s directly relevant to them – they might be doing it just because,’ Matilda said.
‘It could have something to do with what she studied at uni or something, I suppose,’ Danni said.
‘Yeah, because her mum and sister are both really nice,’ Matilda said.
It was on the tip of Rick’s tongue to give his view on the discrepancy between public perceptions and actual lived experience – case in point being the eulogy they’d done for their father … It also crossed his mind to remind them of this morning and why they were here. He was surprised Danni hadn’t already. It was probably the most time they’d ever sat together in such a confined space without being at each other’s throats. The reality would come crashing back in before too long. Who was he to disturb the peace?
‘I was actually thinking of going to visit her in Ballarat,’ Rick said. ‘I would have been there now …’ I wish I was ‘… but Mum didn’t want me to go.’ Oops. He cringed. He hadn’t meant to mention their mother – it had just slipped out.
‘Ooh,’ Matilda said.
‘Not what you’re thinking.’
‘God, there’s so much to go through. And this is just one room,’ Matilda said, looking around.
‘Well, if you’d actually do something, Matilda, instead of sitting there swivelling around on the chair,’ Danni said.
With a sigh, Matilda started to open the first of the left set of three desk drawers, rifled through, shut it with a clunk, and moved on to the next one. Rick abandoned his pile of boring files and moved to beside her and, kneeling, began going through the drawers to the right side of the desk. The top contained books, a scattering of business cards and notes from his mother of who had phoned and why. Why would he keep these and not just toss them in the bin at his feet? Though there were so many strange things his father had done over the years that Rick had learnt to quickly dismiss. Who would know? had become a mantra in his head early on. He scanned the rest of the items – letter openers, bulldog clips, pens and pencils, random rubber bands and batteries, and assorted bits and pieces – before closing the drawer and opening the second.
It was brimming with stationery items branded with the different logos of stock firms and banks and insurance companies they dealt with or that attended the field days – pocket-sized notebooks, pads of paper, rulers, calculators – Joseph had been a cheapskate, so loved nothing more than getting a freebie, whether he would make use of it or not. In his pocket he’d always kept a small red notebook with a mini pencil tucked in the gap against its spine, and he used it to jot down prices stock had been sold for at markets and other notes. Plenty of instructions had been written for Rick and torn out and handed to him, accompanied with a sigh of frustration or a snide comment about him having the memory of a sieve.
‘Speaking of Ballarat,’ Matilda said. ‘Here’s a letter from there. Mum clearly knew someone there. How spooky is that?’
‘Who?’ Rick said.
‘I don’t know. I’m not opening it – it’s addressed to Mum. Cute envelope, though. Someone’s hand decorated it.’ She absent-mindedly passed it to Rick, who turned it over. Whoever had drawn the series of mice running along the bottom, in various poses, had some artistic talent. He put it down beside him. Rather than being curious about what the letter contained, he was more interested in knowing who had written it and if who had written it was the person with the deft artist’s hand. He found himself thinking about the sculpture he’d made yesterday and allowed himself to feel a little proud.
It suddenly struck him that there was no one now to comment on what they found in his shed and that maybe he’d do more of it. It all depended on what his mother’s Will said. Or did it? Maybe he’d just leave this farming caper. Walk away. Maybe this was his opportunity to get out. Did he have the guts? That was the question. He felt himself deflate a little. Nope. Probably not.
‘Who are these people, do you think?’ Matilda said, looking up from the same drawer she’d taken the letter out of. Rick looked. She was holding up a framed picture of a couple.
Danni came over. ‘No idea. Ancient ancestors?’ she suggested with a shrug.
‘They’re in colour, Danni, so they can’t be that old.’
‘No, good point. They kind of look familiar, but then I think everyone can look a little familiar if you stare long and hard enough. The woman’s about to give birth. Look at her – you don’t get much more heavily pregnant than that.’
Rick held out his hand and then looked at the couple in the picture he now held and smiled. Both had hair sticking up and wore colourful clothes.
‘How much fun do they look?’ he said. When he studied it more closely, he saw their colourful clothes were paint splattered as well. The couple was standing in front of what looked like the gaping entry to a warehouse-style building made of corrugated iron – two-storey and with windows. Rick imagined by their slightly perplexed expressions – or mischievous, maybe; he couldn’t tell which – they’d been unprepared to have their photo taken. It seemed an odd sort of picture to be framed. All the others chosen for display were more formal looking – posed. And this had clearly been chosen for display at some point – even if it was tucked away upside down in a drawer now – because it was framed. Someone had gone to the trouble and expense of putting it in a frame. And just like all the photos in the hall portrait gallery, it was framed in simple white painted timber. Maybe it had something to do with the fact the woman was not far away from giving birth.
He noticed Danni looked particularly thoughtful.
‘What?’ he and Matilda said at the same time.
‘It looks familiar. No, not them, the brown floppy monkey-looking thing the woman has tucked under her arm.’
‘You probably had one the same – you had everything,’ Matilda said.
‘Oh ha-ha. I did not. And, anyway, how would you know; you weren’t even born until I was at school.’
‘Well, you would have – seeing as you were always the favourite.’
‘So says the youngest, most spoilt of all of us.’
Rick stayed silent. He was jealous they could banter and go close to crossing the line into insults, when he’d never been able to get away with anything near it. Must be a girl thing, was a phrase that ran through his mind at times like this.
‘Say whatever you like, but that squishy toy is familiar. I’ve seen it before. And I’m pretty sure I never had one. I always had a small blanket, as far as I know, that I carried around everywhere. It’s in plenty of those photos out there,’ Danni said, handing the picture back to Rick.
Rick stared at it. Something about the people really was familiar. ‘Long-lost relations or friends,’ he said, and put the photo down.
‘How weird, that all there is in this whole drawer is the letter and that photo,’ Matilda said, pulling the drawer right out and inspecting it.
Rick’s gaze kept going to the photo.
‘You know, that bloke could be Dad – look at the ears. And the nose. They’re quite like mine,’ he said. ‘See.’ He handed the photo back to the girls, who were both now standing together on the other side of the desk.
‘God, you’re right. Though Dad would never have been seen dead in those clothes,’ Matilda said. ‘Shit, sorry, that’s … I didn’t mean to …’ she lumbered before stopping and covering her mouth.
‘It’s true, though, he wouldn’t have. Other than that, it could be him. Must be his doppelganger,’ Danni said.
‘You don’t think he had another family, do you?’ Matilda said, wide-eyed. ‘You hear about that sort of thing all the time these days.’
