Читать книгу How To Trap a Parent - Joan Kilby - Страница 6

CHAPTER TWO

COLE FOLLOWED Jane down the hall to the lounge room. He could almost smell his mother’s Sunday roast cooking and hear his dog Toby’s tail thump in greeting.

His family had kept chickens, a few sheep and a couple of horses. His father had worked at the real estate agency; his mother had stayed home and looked after the animals and the vegetable garden. He and Joey had roamed freely for miles around through woods and fields on horseback. With the nostalgia came an acute sense of loss, for those long-ago days and for what he might have done with the farm as an adult.

“You can hardly see the house for the contents, but I’m gradually clearing it out,” Jane said.

On closer inspection Cole observed the dingy paintwork and chipped plaster. On the high ceiling a water stain ran from one corner to the pressed-tin rose in the center. It made him sad and angry to see the house his great-grandfather had built in such poor condition. Keeping his expression impassive, he made a note on his clipboard.

“Esther allowed the house to get rundown.” Jane seemed to know what he was thinking.

“It just needs a little TLC,” Cole said, running a hand along the polished marble mantelpiece covered in patches of dust. “You haven’t changed your mind about selling? You might like Red Hill. It’s more sophisticated than it was in the old days.”

“My work is in the city,” Jane said. “And Mary Kate is looking forward to starting high school there next month and making new friends.”

Cole glanced toward the kitchen where he could smell toast. “Where is Mary Kate?”

“She went to check on her egg. She’s still having breakfast.” Jane led the way into the large country kitchen filled with half-packed boxes of Esther’s dishes. The back door was open and Mary Kate was gone. “I guess she stepped out for a minute. I suggested earlier that she take a walk down to the creek. She probably decided to do it before you rang the doorbell.”

“Of course.” Cole studied Jane’s averted face. Why did he have the feeling she was hiding something? Why would Mary Kate go out and leave a pot bubbling away on the stove? Unless she didn’t want to see him? He didn’t like to think Jane would try to turn his daughter against him and yet…where was the girl? “Did she know I was coming?”

“Yes.” Jane moved past him toward the staircase that rose from the junction of the lounge room and the study. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Cole climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor. The worn carpet, the light falling across the banister from the window at the end of the hall, flashed him back to a winter afternoon thirteen years ago. Esther had gone to Melbourne to pick up supplies for her glazes. Jane and Cole had been out riding and had come home wet and muddy. Jane had run upstairs to change.

She was waiting for him now, at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed over her stomach. Their eyes met and hers skittered away, as if she knew the direction his thoughts had taken. Cole pushed his memories to the back of his mind where they belonged.

“This is the main bedroom, as you know.” She opened the door on a room crammed with more of Esther’s bric-a-brac. Jane’s suitcase sat atop a cedar chest at the foot of the bed and spilled clothes onto a dark red coverlet. Hastily she stuffed bras and panties inside the case and shut the lid.

Cole left the bedroom after a brief inspection and headed next door to the bathroom. “How’s the plumbing holding up?” As if on cue, the hot-water pipe started knocking.

“It’s a bit dodgy,” Jane admitted. “There’s an ominous gurgle when you flush the toilet as if it’s deciding whether to go down or up.” She paused. “Do you have to mention all this to prospective buyers?”

Cole didn’t answer right away; he was looking around. The avocado-green sink, toilet and bathtub, as well as the pink curtains and bath mat, had never been updated. Cole remembered peering into that speckled mirror to see if his amazing experience with Jane had changed him visibly. The wonder had been there in his eyes, but years later the scars were all on the inside.

“It’s against the code of conduct for real estate agents to cover up faults in a house,” Cole said, making a note on his clipboard.

He stopped in the doorway of the next bedroom and went silent. His room. Later, Jane’s room. Now their daughter’s things were scattered everywhere. Faded floral curtains moved in the breeze from the open window. An ancient rag rug in pink, yellow and pale blue softened the wooden floor, and a chipped white-painted dresser sat to one side. Movie posters—a decade old— still decorated the pale lavender walls. Casablanca, Flashdance, Mad Max .

There was the bed. High, single, virginal in white paint and a floral coverlet that matched the curtains.

Well, not quite virginal.

That afternoon he’d gone upstairs to see what was taking Jane so long. And come upon her half-dressed. There’d been a long frozen moment when their eyes met. Then her arms had dropped away from her bare breasts. He’d stepped inside the room. And shut the door. He remembered how his hands trembled and how her mouth had tasted of hot chocolate—

“There’s nothing in here you haven’t seen before,” Jane said abruptly, moving past him out of the room.

“Mom!” a girl called. Footsteps thudded on the stairs. “The stove’s broken. The egg pot boiled over, the element went pffft and the electricity cut out.”

Mary Kate burst into the hallway. Cole dragged his mind out of the past as he looked upon the daughter he’d seen only a handful of times in his life. His heart raced as eyes uncannily similar to his own stared back at him. “Hello, Mary Kate.”

“Hi.” She came forward hesitantly, glancing at her mother as if for reassurance.

Cole opened his arms and took her into a hug. Her shoulders were stiff and tense, so he kept it brief, covering his disappointment. “You’ve grown,” he said, feeling foolishly hearty. “How tall are you now?”

Mary Kate shrugged and again looked to her mother.

“She’s five feet four inches.” Jane moved over to Mary Kate and put an arm around her shoulder. “She’s really shot up in the past year.”

Everything Cole had imagined saying to Mary Kate when they met flew out of his brain. This wasn’t the warm loving reunion he’d imagined. In the face of her tepid response his own excitement fizzled. He dragged a hand through his hair and felt his scalp hot and damp. “Right, well, let’s have a look at the fuse box.”

The breaker was on the front veranda, so they all trooped downstairs and out into the shade of the overhanging roof. Jane peered at the faded labels above the switches until Cole edged her out of the way and flipped a switch on the top row. “That ought to do it.”

“Mary Kate, go see if the stove is working,” Jane said.

Mary Kate ran inside, her pink thongs flapping.

Cole waited a moment then grabbed Jane’s arm and turned her to face him. “What have you been saying to her about me?”

Jane yanked her arm away. “I’ve never said a word against you.”

“Then why won’t she look at me?”

“I don’t know,” Jane said, pacing. “You can’t expect her to be instantly affectionate. She barely knows you. A few stilted phone calls a year are no substitute for a real relationship.”

“Exactly.” Cole followed her along the veranda, miffed to be speaking to her back. “Whose fault is that?”

Jane spun. “Are we going to hash through this again? I never tried to stop you from seeing her.”

“No, but you made it bloody difficult. I can understand you leaving Red Hill, but did you have to move to the other side of the ocean?”

Mary Kate ran back outside, breathless. “It’s still not on. The toaster is, though, and the lights.”

Cole yanked his tie loose, trying to get some breathing room. “The stove runs off a higher voltage than the toaster and kettle. You’ll have to get an electrician to look at it. The house is old, it needs rewiring.”

Inside, a cell phone rang. “That’s mine,” Jane said, and hurried away.

Alone with Mary Kate, Cole felt perspiration prickling his hairline. “So,” he said. “How do you like Red Hill?”

Mary Kate twined a lock of hair around her finger and gazed at the veranda roof. “It sucks.”

Unlike Jane, who only had traces of an accent, Mary Kate sounded American. She might resemble him in appearance but in all other respects she was as foreign as any stranger in the street.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he plowed on. “Stephanie can’t wait to see you, too. Do you remember when you were five years old and your mum brought you to Red Hill for a visit? You girls were inseparable.”

Mary Kate gave him an unnerving stare. “Then why did you separate us?”

Frowning, Cole started to say, “That wasn’t my decision,” then stopped. He blamed Jane, but it wasn’t right to badmouth her to Mary Kate. All at once he couldn’t handle the situation. If he stayed a moment longer his anger toward Jane would spill out and that wouldn’t endear him to Mary Kate.

Stepping off the veranda, he reached into his pocket for his car keys. “Tell your mother I’ll give her a call when I’ve worked out an asking price. I’ll be in touch about you getting together with Stephanie.”

JANE CAME BACK onto the veranda in time to see Cole’s older-model Porsche bumping down the rutted driveway. His hasty retreat sparked a pain that hardened her resolve to get out of this town as fast as possible. He’d left their daughter standing alone on the porch looking ready to cry.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jane asked, giving her a hug.

“He said he’d call you later.” Mary Kate dragged a hand across her sniffly nose. “I think he’s mad at me.”

“No, he’s not. He’s mad at me.” But that was no reason for him to hurt Mary Kate by taking off so abruptly.

“Come on, let’s see if we can figure out what to do with that stove.”

Glaring at the appliance accomplished nothing. So Jane kicked it. And immediately regretted it. Hobbling to a chair, she sat down. Cole was undoubtedly right; she needed an electrician to fix the wiring and possibly a new stove. Should she bother when she was selling? The headaches associated with disposing of her aunt’s house were multiplying.

Mary Kate fished her egg out of the pot and peered at it. “This is probably as hard as a rock.” She put it in a ceramic Easter-bunny egg cup. Then she got out a spoon and held the tip to the side of the shell. “He wants me to hang out with Stephanie.”

“She was your best friend when you were five. For the month we were here, at least.” Jane sat down again and checked her toenail. Broken. Served her right.

“What if she doesn’t want to hang out with me?”

Jane shrugged helplessly, wishing she could take Mary Kate far away from these difficult encounters. It wasn’t like her confident daughter to be worried about whether someone liked her. “All you can do is be yourself. I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Mary Kate stabbed the spoon through the shell and made a face. “Yuck. It’s like rubber.” Pushing it away, she sat back and asked Jane point-blank, “Why did you and Cole break up?”

“We didn’t really have a choice,” Jane said. “Cole asked Leslie to marry him when he found out she was pregnant. He could hardly go back on his word when he found out I was pregnant, too.” Even if he’d wanted to, which he hadn’t, Jane reminded herself grimly.

“But that was awful for you,” Mary Kate said.

“I had big plans,” Jane said briskly, refusing to tell a tale of woe. “I was going to be an actor. I couldn’t do that by getting stuck in a small town. I went to Sydney and stayed with a friend of Esther’s. Cole offered to send money but I refused it since he had too many people to provide for already. Esther’s friend gave me free room and board in exchange for housekeeping. I was fine .”

“So Cole stayed here and married Stephanie’s mom.”

“That’s right.” Jane sucked in a breath. She couldn’t believe how much that rankled even after all these years. She’d loved Cole with all her heart and soul. He’d told her he loved her, then he’d told her he didn’t. Sure, she’d wanted to be an actor but that wasn’t why she’d left Red Hill; it was because Cole had chosen Leslie. The humiliation and pain had taught her a lesson—never forget, never forgive. But she kept her shoulders square and her smile bright for Mary Kate.

“That’s ancient history,” Jane said. “Now, are you going to eat that egg?”

“Do I have to?”

“I guess not. Put it in the fridge and we’ll get something to eat in town. It’s almost lunchtime, anyway. But first we’ll buy a microwave. I don’t know how Esther managed all these years without one.”

Wonder of wonders, there was a small appliance store in Red Hill. Jane bought a microwave and a new electric kettle to replace the one with the frayed cord. It was a miracle Esther hadn’t electrocuted herself instead of dying of a heart attack.

She and Mary Kate carried their purchases back to her Mazda and stowed them in the trunk. Then they went across the street to a café with a small outdoor courtyard, its tables sheltered by market umbrellas. Jane picked up a menu and handed one to Mary Kate.

Here, in the center of town, two main roads came together in a T-junction lined by shops that made way for houses after a couple of blocks in any direction. Beyond the sparse habitation were woods broken up by rolling countryside planted with grapevines or pastureland dotted with placidly grazing sheep and cows. To the east the land rose to the promontory known as Arthur’s Seat.

A comfortably round dark-haired woman in her late fifties came out of the café and stood over the table. “What can I get you ladies today?”

Jane glanced up. “Mrs. Roberts!”

“Jane Linden?” Valerie Roberts said. “Is that you?”

Jane’s heart sank. She’d always believed Cole’s mother didn’t like her. Jane had been the outsider, the would-be usurper of Leslie’s rightful place as Cole’s wife.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt,” Valerie went on. “Leslie and I came to the funeral but we missed paying our respects to you afterward.”

“I had to rush off. My flight back to L.A. left early the next morning.” And being polite to Leslie and Valerie in that difficult time would have been too much. Even now Jane’s smile grew stiff. “Thank you for the flowers. They were lovely.” She turned to her daughter. “This is Mary Kate. Mary Kate, this is Cole’s mother. Your grandmother.”

“Hi.” Mary Kate eyed Valerie curiously as if trying to associate this woman with the cards she’d received like clockwork every birthday.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” Valerie gushed. “My, how you’ve grown.”

Mary Kate grimaced. “Everybody says that.”

“You weren’t at the funeral, were you?” Valerie asked.

“I didn’t come. I had a solo in the school concert,” Mary Kate explained.

“I wish I could have heard you sing.” Valerie continued to study Mary Kate with embarrassing intensity. “It’s been so long. Photos don’t really do her justice. She’s the spitting image of Cole. There’s no doubt she’s her father’s daughter.”

“Not a particle,” Jane said tightly. How many boys did Valerie think she’d slept with at age seventeen? “I’d like the Thai beef salad and a latte. What do you want, Mary Kate?”

“I’ll have the ham and Swiss cheese on focaccia. And a chocolate milk shake. And a piece of almond-and-orange cake for dessert.”

Chuckling, Valerie jotted down their order. “A sweet tooth, just like Cole. I have to say I’m glad you’re out of Los Angeles and away from that terrible smog. I worried about you and asthma.”

Jane started. “How did you know she had asthma?” She’d never mentioned it to Cole for fear he’d be critical of her for staying in L.A., even though the doctors had said smog hadn’t caused Mary Kate’s condition.

“I didn’t,” Valerie said. “I was concerned because Cole had it as a child.”

“I’m over it now,” Mary Kate volunteered.

“Well, that’s a relief.” Valerie beamed at them. “I’ll get your drinks right away.” She glanced over Jane’s shoulder. “Excuse me, someone’s signaling me.”

“Don’t you like her?” Mary Kate asked when Valerie had hurried away. “You weren’t very friendly.”

“She’s a nice woman. She’s just so…” Jane trailed off, not wanting to taint her daughter’s relationship with her grandmother. But when Jane had turned out to be pregnant, Valerie had come to Esther, and the two women had had a long discussion over what to do with her. Jane had never known anything so humiliating. As if she’d want help from the Roberts family after Cole had rejected her. “You know small towns,” she finished vaguely.

Valerie came back in a few minutes with the latte and Mary Kate’s milk shake. Mercifully she was busy and couldn’t stop to talk.

“Mmm, this is good.” Mary Kate happily slurped her milk shake through a straw.

“The coffee’s not bad, either,” Jane had to admit. It was as good as any in Melbourne.

A clip-clop sounded on the pavement and half a block up the road a pair of horses ridden by young girls in riding boots and hard hats walked out of the bush, crossed the road and disappeared down another trail.

Mary Kate leaned out from the table to follow their progress. “Wow! Did you see that? If we stay in Red Hill, can I get a horse?”

“What happened to your separation anxiety from the mall?” Jane asked wryly.

“That was before I knew there were horses.”

“Your father has horses. You probably don’t remember sitting on one when you were five.” Jane added, “But we’re not staying. You know that.”

Valerie returned with their salad and focaccia and set the plates of food on the table. Apparently the same question was on her mind. “Will you be in Red Hill long?”

“Only as long as it takes to deal with Esther’s effects and sell the farm,” Jane replied.

“You’re selling Cockatoo Ridge?” Hope lifted Valerie’s voice. “Is Cole going to make an offer on it?”

“He’s said nothing to me about that,” Jane replied.

Silently, Valerie took cutlery rolled in napkins from her apron pocket and laid them beside the plates. When she spoke again she changed the subject. “I suppose you know Cole and Leslie are divorced. He has primary custody of Stephanie but he still pays Leslie a monthly sum for expenses. He helps me out occasionally and Joey’s always borrowing money.”

Jane spread her napkin on her lap, quietly fuming. Did Valerie think she intended to shake Cole down for child support in arrears? She’d raised Mary Kate for twelve years without asking for a cent and she had no intention of taking money from him now. Determined to put a halt to Valerie’s innuendos, she said to Mary Kate, “Go wash your hands before you eat.”

“But—” Mary Kate started to object.

“The washrooms are inside the café at the back,” Valerie told her. Mary Kate had no choice but to leave.

Jane put down her knife and fork and looked Valerie straight in the eye. “My dealings with Cole are strictly business. He’s selling the farm for me. Once that’s done, Mary Kate and I are leaving and not coming back. You don’t need to worry. He has no obligation to me and Mary Kate, financial or otherwise. I want nothing from him.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Valerie’s face fell in dismay. “I’m so sorry if you thought that.”

“Then what are you trying to say?” Jane asked.

“Only to assure you that Cole lives up to his responsibilities. That despite his other financial obligations, he’ll want Mary Kate to feel like a full-fledged part of his family.” Valerie worried at the tie on her black apron. “Of course I don’t mean she’s an obligation. He’s thrilled to have her back in his life. All of us—Cole, Stephanie, me, Joey, Crystal, welcome Mary Kate.”

“I see,” Jane said, relaxing. “That’s nice.”

“And you never know what will happen now that Cole and Leslie aren’t together,” Valerie went on, her smile returning. “You and he were fond of one another once.”

Jane laughed in sheer surprise. “I can guarantee nothing will happen in that direction.”

Mary Kate came back and clattered into her seat. “I’m starving.”

“We’ll see,” Valerie said knowingly to Jane. “At any rate, I’m thrilled my grandchild has come home.” She moved away, touching Mary Kate’s shoulder as she went. “I’ll see you very soon.”

Jane sighed and picked up her cutlery to eat. Feeling someone’s gaze on her, she glanced across the street. Cole stood in the doorway of Red Hill Real Estate, watching her.