The Long Road Home, page 28
‘I think there was also plenty of jealousy over the fact that Beatrice was from money – I’m not certain how well-off. Beatrice was too polite to discuss her family finances in detail, but they weren’t short of a dollar. Middle to upper middle class maybe – not that we’re meant to talk about there even being a class system here in Australia … I think what bothered Joseph even more than them having money was that Beatrice’s parents were supportive through and through – she had no limits placed on her, unlike Joseph and Bart.
‘Anyway, as I said, I met them when we sold them the building. We called it The Barn. Anyway, they were happy. Really happy. Their wedding was simple and joyful and full of love – which basically sums them up. Dear, your parents were beautiful – kind, thoughtful, caring people. Two of the best. I’m really sorry you ended up with Joseph, because I didn’t like him very much.’
‘So, you met him – them – Joseph and Maureen, then?’ Alice asked, just as Rick had opened his mouth to ask the same question.
‘It was an occasion … or some reason … just let me think a moment …’
Rick watched and became a little mesmerised as Sarah tapped the waterproof tablecloth with her index finger. It made a slightly hollow plasticky tack-tack sound. He could also hear the hollow click of the clock, which seemed to be keeping the same beat as Sarah.
‘Nope, I don’t recall. Maybe it was to talk Bart into going back to the farm. I know Joseph did tell his brother art was a waste of space and time and if he wasn’t going to farm, he needed to at least get a real job and take proper care of his wife. Maybe she was pregnant then, I don’t know. Oh! I remember now. Not that. But Bart leaving the farm meant being paid out a bit of money. Yes, that’s right. Joseph was angry about giving his brother money. I don’t remember how much it was, but at the time I’m sure I didn’t think it seemed much to buy him out of the family company. But it was enough for a deposit on The Barn.’
‘But he was so angry for so long – he took it out on Rick for decades. How could he have cared that much about someone else being an artist?’ Alice scoffed. But Rick could believe it. Joseph had had a concrete heart. And plenty of other farming family bust-ups had been just as damaging, while appearing just as petty to the outside world.
‘Dear, people do the darnedest things when their insecurities are jolted.’
‘Because hurt people hurt people,’ Alice said quietly. Out of the corner of his eye Rick could see her nodding thoughtfully.
‘Yes, exactly. That’s the conclusion we all came to. Bart and Beatrice got on with enjoying their lives and hoped Joseph would eventually come around. There wasn’t much more they could do.
‘Bart didn’t even really want to take the money, but they were keen on being independent. Beatrice’s parents would have helped them out in a heartbeat, and Beatrice was fine with asking them, but Bart wanted to provide for his family and I suppose prove something. And they sure did,’ Sarah said, clearly proud.
Rick felt his own chest puff up a little in response, too. ‘You said their debut exhibition was a sell-out – did they have any others?’ he ventured.
‘Oh yes. Several. And all sold out, to the best of my knowledge. Hang on there a moment. I put a scrapbook together of what bits and pieces I had,’ she said, as she got up and left the room.
Rick sighed. It was so good but also sad to hear about Bart and Beatrice knowing he’d never have the chance to meet them and that there was only so much he could ever learn. Alice reached over and squeezed his hand and he returned her gentle smile.
A few moments later, Sarah came back with a photo album and handed it to Rick. He ran his fingers over the words BART AND BEATRICE written on the cover in thick black marker before carefully opening the album. On the first page was the photo he already had.
‘They’d just moved into The Barn there,’ Sarah said, leaning over his shoulder and pointing. ‘I’d also just given her the stuffed monkeys – one for you and one for Sebastian. I can’t remember why I chose monkeys. Maybe because they were so soft and cuddly and easy to hold and wouldn’t show the dirt. There are photos of you and Sebastian in the back after the art.’ Rick quickly turned the page, the desire to find out more – things he didn’t already know – spurring him on. But did he want to see photos of his brother? Was he ready for that?
Over the next several pages were shots of his parents working in the huge space of The Barn – at a forge style set-up with coals glowing and Bart standing with an iron bar in them. Nearby Beatrice, her head wrapped in a bright floral scarf, sat on a stool with wire in her hands and a partially completed construction. Her position was just like his had been the other day. Again, icy fingers began creeping down his back, and then went up it again.
‘Oh my god,’ Alice said. He knew she had her hand over her mouth, because her voice was muffled. ‘That’s so much like what you made me.’ He nodded and silently turned the page. In front of him was a large newspaper clipping with a photo and a lot of text beneath it – half a page, maybe, depending on the style of newspaper. The heading was: Turning trash into treasures; local artists prepare for their debut exhibition. It was hard for Rick to make out most of the detail of the few pieces they stood among. Alice leant in closer.
‘What? What have you seen?’ Sarah asked, clearly picking up on what Rick had.
‘It’s just the feeling again that it’s somehow familiar. I think it’s the butterfly wings, maybe,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen them somewhere.’
‘Well, they’re butterfly wings, but they also aren’t, I should have explained.’
‘Sorry?’ Rick and Alice said at once.
‘That’s their signature. It’s on all their pieces – sometimes small, sometimes really big. Bart and Beatrice. See, two Bs back-to-back. Clever, huh?’
‘Oh, yes, I see. Yes, it is.’
Rick could see Alice frowning, like she was trying to remember something. He waited until she seemed to have given up before turning the next page.
‘Aww, watching them work together was just like watching a beautifully choreographed dance routine,’ Sarah said. ‘They fed off each other, bantered, threw ideas around. And never a cross word, that I heard. But, of course, sadly, it was a short-lived partnership and career,’ she added sadly.
Rick found himself torn between not wanting details but needing to know everything. He sat, unable, unwilling, to turn to the next page.
He heard Alice sniff and then a tissue being dragged from the box. ‘Sorry. It’s all so lovely, but it’s making me sad,’ she said. ‘They were so clever.’
‘It is sad. So much promise,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m so pleased to see you, to see that you fared okay,’ she eventually said, breaking a long bout of silence.
Rick looked up at her and then back down at the book, which he didn’t remember closing. He opened his mouth to correct Sarah – tell her the truth about Joseph. But what would it achieve? He had fared okay. Ultimately. Here he was with a new start and the courage to make it.
‘Are you okay?’ Alice said.
He nodded and swallowed as the thought, He can’t hurt you now, ran through his mind several times.
‘Oh. Hang on a sec,’ Sarah said, when they heard the sound of a phone ringing. She hurried out into the hall.
Rick could hear her muffled voice, ‘Oh. Yes, of course. I’ll be there soon.’ Well, that’s what he thought he heard.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Alice said, looking closely at Rick, putting a hand on his arm again.
‘Honestly, Alice, I have no idea. I feel like I’ve been dragged through one of those old washing machine wringers,’ he said, and attempted to laugh.
‘I’m sure. And, sorry, that was a silly question. It sounds like Sarah needs to be somewhere,’ Alice said, tilting her head towards the hall. Rick copied her when she stood up. He reluctantly placed the scrapbook on the table, wishing he’d seen everything in it. Perhaps Sarah wouldn’t mind if he came back some time.
‘We’ve kept you long enough,’ Alice said when Sarah came back in, looking a little flustered.
‘Yes, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I do need to be somewhere soon. I didn’t realise what the time was. It’s got quite away from me.’
‘Well, we really appreciate everything,’ Rick said, finally managing to find his voice. He didn’t want to leave. As they moved out into the hall, ushered by Sarah, he felt a bond to the artwork in the garden, the warehouse beyond, stretching painfully as if it was trying to keep him there.
‘You haven’t finished looking through the book. Take it with you,’ Sarah said, ducking past them and back again.
‘Are you sure?’ Rick said, holding on tightly to the object now flat against his chest. It felt like the most valuable gift he’d ever been given.
‘Yes, it’s yours. As long as you promise to come and visit me again. And not leave it so long next time,’ Sarah said, smiling at him and touching his cheek gently with a smooth finger.
Suddenly they were hugging. This time it was Rick making the first move.
He didn’t want to let go. But he had to.
‘I’ll be on a cruise for the next couple of weeks, but after that, please visit any time. You know where I am now,’ Sarah said as they made their way down the path to the squeaky gate. ‘Oh, Ricky – little Ricky – that’s what I called you, but you’re not so little now – it’s been wonderful, just wonderful. I’ve never stopped thinking about you, wondering, and hoping all was well. As I said, I did write. A lot, in the early years. I’m just so sorry your aunt and uncle chose not to tell you the truth.’
Rick nodded. He had no words. She must have caught a hint of the sudden spike of anger he was biting back, because next she said, ‘Don’t be too hard on them – they probably thought they were doing the right thing.’
Rick nodded again.
Alice opened the gate. It gave a long loud squeaking groan.
‘Don’t mind that, it’s my security alarm – so I know when someone’s in my yard,’ she said.
Rick followed Alice. And then he thought of something. It really bothered him. The question turned itself inside out and a knot formed as options presented themselves to him and were discarded. He wasn’t sure how to ask, but he had to know. He turned back. ‘Um, Sarah?’
‘Yes?’
‘How do you know I’m Ricky?’
‘Your features. You have your mother’s eyes and your father’s ears and nose, pet. It’s very obvious to me.’
‘No, how do you know which twin died, that I’m actually Ricky?’ Rick almost choked on the words. What if I’m actually Sebastian? Not Rick at all …
‘Oh, darling, I know. You were so different – you looked identical but were very different little boys.’
Tears suddenly filled Rick’s eyes again. This time they were more out of frustration as he felt brought right back to the original question – who am I? He wasn’t sure how else to ask.
‘Oh. Oh. I see what you mean now,’ Sarah said. She stood looking thoughtful, as if searching her memory. And then she said, sounding a little triumphant, ‘Do you have a large, perfectly round brown mole on the top of your left foot? I guess it wouldn’t be large now, would it, now you’re so big?’
‘Yes, yes I do.’ You remembered that?
‘Well, there you go, then. Little Sebastian didn’t. You’re little Ricky all grown up, I have no doubt about that.’
‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded through him.
‘Come on, we’d better let Sarah go,’ Alice said, tugging at his arm.
‘Yes, I’d better. Again, I’m sorry to cut it short. But you’re going to come back some time, aren’t you?’
‘Oh yes. Absolutely. Of course,’ Rick said.
‘Thanks again,’ Alice said.
‘Yes, thank you so much,’ Rick said, though it was such an inadequate thing to say in light of what she’d given him. He let himself be gently dragged away as the gate squeaked closed again. He so badly didn’t want to leave but reminded himself he’d be back. The gate was only closing on them for now. And he had the book, with more in it to discover.
He trailed along next to Alice for a few hundred metres until she stopped and leant on a low brick wall in front of a small group of flats. He settled beside her. He still had the scrapbook clutched hard to his chest with both hands wrapped around it.
‘Wow,’ Alice said. ‘Phew.’
Rick nodded. He felt weird – light but heavy, fearful but calm. And also comforted, as if the missing and broken pieces of him that had been jangling about inside painfully all these years were gluing themselves back together and turning him into who he was really meant to be – not the person Joseph Peterson, aided by Maureen, had tried to force him to be. He was starting to think clearly, to see clearly.
‘Crikey, what a morning,’ he said eventually, needing to end the long silence.
‘That’s one way to describe it! I guess now we have some idea why you’ve felt abandoned, and like you don’t belong, all these years. They say twins share a really strong, sometimes even psychic, bond. You’ve had half of yourself missing all this time,’ Alice said sadly.
‘Hmm. And probably why I hurt you so much. I’m really sorry, Alice. And even if it’s a reason, it’s still not an excuse. I was downright horrible to you at times.’
‘We’ve had this discussion, Rick. It’s in the past. We’re here now.’
He gripped her hand. ‘Thank you. For everything.’
‘And you need to stop thanking me, too. I’m your friend and I care about you. End of story. You don’t owe me anything.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
Like each of the previous two mornings, Rick woke on Monday with Bill pressed against him. He would miss the little guy when he went out to stay with Blair. He got up and rolled his swag. He didn’t want to linger and risk upsetting Alice’s routine for getting herself and Bill to work on time.
He was also energised and keen to get on to the next clue. They’d sat up late Saturday evening and gone through the album Sarah had given them, and then again, looking for any hints of anything else Rick might find out about himself or his parents. And they’d found one – well, Alice had. He’d completely missed it, but she had spotted on the bottom of Bart and Beatrice’s funeral notice a line about donating funds to help in the raising of their orphaned son in lieu of floral tributes. Rick had felt a little strange realising he was the orphaned son named.
He initially hadn’t seen it as a clue to anything – was too busy chewing over why, if Beatrice had come from money – possibly quite a bit of money – and was an only child, would there have been a need to raise funds? Had Joseph’s greed had something to do with it? But he forced that back, preferring to think it was more about a community rallying around his lost parents who, in his mind, wouldn’t have flaunted any wealth they might have had. But then Alice had tapped her finger on the name of the law firm collecting any donations. ‘That’s where I reckon you need to go next. First thing on Monday,’ she’d said.
So, after he saw Alice off at work, he was going to their office – which just happened to be down the street from hers – to see what they knew, if anything. Though, three decades was a long time. So, while he was hopeful, he tried to keep himself from expecting too much.
At the door to Alice’s office they had a brief moment of awkwardness: they suddenly both didn’t seem to quite know how to say goodbye after the intensity of their weekend. Alice stood in front of Rick looking a little bereft, he thought. He knew she hated goodbyes of any kind, so quickly pulled her to him in a hug, pecked her on the cheek and then held her back by the shoulders while he looked into her eyes. ‘Thank you so much. For everything. I’ll see you soon.’ He bent down to give Bill some attention, rubbed his little head and quietly thanked him too.
‘Good luck with the lawyer. Let me know how it goes.’
‘Will do.’ Rick then walked down the street with a wave. He was a few minutes early, but he wanted to give Alice the time and space to collect herself. He ran through what he was going to say, getting the order of words right in his mind.
Clear, concise, and stick to the point, he told himself as he walked up to the glass door of Taylor and Associates.
‘Hello, can I help you?’ a young man asked, looking up from his position behind the reception desk.
‘Yes. Hello. My name is Rick Peterson. I was adopted after my parents and twin brother died in nineteen-eighty-seven and I understand there’s a connection to this firm.’
‘Oh. Right. Okay. Do you know who, which partner, handled your case?’
‘I’m not sure it was a case, as such. I’m not sure of much about it at all, to be honest. Here, this might help.’ He brought up the picture he’d taken of the funeral notice for his parents on his phone and handed it over.
‘Ah, yes, okay. I think it best you speak to our longest-serving partner, William. But he’s in court first thing this morning. He should be back at around ten, I believe. Unfortunately, he then has a client meeting,’ he said, looking down and tapping on a keyboard.
‘Would you mind if I wait, in case I can catch him between or something?’ Rick didn’t have anywhere else to be.
‘Okay. That’s fine.’
Rick took a seat in one of the five burgundy upholstered chairs with black steel arms placed in a row against the window.
Rick wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting – he hadn’t wanted to look impatient by checking his watch or phone – when a tall, grey-haired man came in dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit. He was carrying a brown leather satchel with scuff marks on the bottom corners. Rick wanted to leap up and accost him, but forced himself to remain seated. He tried not to look while the receptionist responded to the man’s query about messages – no doubt a subtle question about who the man sitting waiting in the window was. There were hushed voices and then the man was standing in front of him.
