Читать книгу Six Australian Heroes - Margaret Way - Страница 33

RYAN could not remember the drive back to the city; his mind was in total disarray. That he made it back to his apartment building without incident was a minor miracle. It was a struggle to concentrate on the road when his head was full of such distressing thoughts, the main one being that he would never see Laura again. Never hold her in his arms again. Never make love to her again. Even worse was the physical distress which accompanied these thoughts. His stomach was churning, and his chest muscles were so tight around his heart he imagined he might go into cardiac arrest at any moment.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Ryan headed for his drinks cabinet and poured himself the largest straight whisky he’d ever had in his life, downing it quickly before pouring himself another. Before long, the alcohol did what his normally strong will could not, calmed his body and shut down his brain.

The following morning he rang his PA and told her he wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. Then he turned off his phone so that no one could bother him. For the next three days, he watched movie after movie, eating delivered pizzas and drinking himself into oblivion until he fell asleep in the lounge. Same thing on Saturday. By Sunday morning, he couldn’t stand his own company any longer, or the way he looked when he happened to catch a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.

A shower and a shave went some way to brightening him up, plus a litre of orange juice and a couple of aspirin for his hangover. Afterwards he went for a long walk around the nearby botanic gardens, during which time he thought and thought, mostly about the past, the kind of thinking Ryan was not well acquainted with. He put such activities in the same category as psychological analysis or, even worse, group-therapy sessions. He’d survived so far without the help of anti-depressants and in-depth counselling, well aware that people in this modern day and age would think him something of a dinosaur regarding his attitude to mental health.

Ryan had no doubt that if he went to a doctor and confided the truth about his childhood he or she would be amazed that he’d lasted this long without cracking up entirely. His grandmother had actually taken him to a psychiatrist not long after his mother’s death—or perhaps it was a psychologist; he couldn’t be sure now, it was so long ago. But Ryan hadn’t liked the man. He certainly hadn’t wanted to tell him all the shameful details of his mother’s life—and death—and hadn’t wanted to keep reliving any of it.

He’d decided then and there to survive his own way. Of course, if it hadn’t been for his grandmother’s support and love, he would not have survived at all, let alone become a success. Ryan could also see that shortly after her death he’d been in real danger of losing it for a while. Only by hardening his heart even further against emotional attachment of any kind had he managed to continue living.

And it had worked for him up until now …

As Ryan walked endlessly around the garden pathways, he forced himself to face the astonishing fact that Laura had somehow stolen past his defences and melted his cold heart. His pretending that it was just lust he felt for her was just so much rubbish: it was love, pure and simple. Well, perhaps not so pure or so simple, but love all the same. Nothing else could explain the devastation he’d felt when she’d verbally savaged him the way she had the previous Tuesday.

But his falling in love with Laura was the ultimate irony, because she didn’t return his love. Anyone could see that. Her disgust at the very thought of having his baby had been obvious. Though startled, deep down he’d actually not been displeased by the possibility—another light-bulb moment, if he’d been smart enough to recognise it at the time.

But he recognised it now.

By the time Ryan made it back to his apartment, he’d made a few decisions and got back some of his fighting spirit. Okay, so he probably didn’t have a great chance of ever convincing Laura that he was a changed man. But he wasn’t about to live the rest of his wretched life without giving it his best shot.

Winning a woman like Laura was not unlike winning a soccer match against a top team, he conceded. You couldn’t just barge back into her life, running around like a chook with its head cut off. You had to have a decent strategy. A plan.

By Monday morning Ryan still wasn’t sure what to do. He could hardly just ring Laura up and tell her that he loved her; that wasn’t going to work. He needed more time to think. At the same time he needed to get back to work. Unfortunately, three days out of the office meant he had a lot of calls to return, one of them to Laura’s boss.

‘Ryan Armstrong,’ he said when Greg Harvey came on the line.

‘Ryan, so glad you called. I gather you’ll be needing a new lawyer now that Laura has left us.’

‘What? Laura’s left?’

‘You didn’t know? I thought she would have told you. She resigned late last week. For personal reasons.’

‘What kind of personal reasons?’

‘I guess there’s no reason you shouldn’t know. Her grandmother died. Apparently they were very close.’

Ryan suppressed a groan of dismay.

‘We offered her time off,’ the man rattled on, ‘But she said she needed a complete break. We’re sorry to lose a lawyer of her ability but life does go on, doesn’t it? Look, there’s a young chap who’s just joined us. Brilliant legal brain. What say I send him down to meet you, see what you think? His name’s Cory Sanderland.’

‘Sounds perfect, Greg. But not right now. I have to go out shortly and I won’t be in for the rest of the day. Leave it with me and I’ll give Cory a call later this week.’

‘Fine.’

‘Have to go, Greg,’ he said, and hung up.

But he didn’t leave the office straight away. First he tried ringing Laura’s mobile but it was turned off. After pacing around for a few minutes, he charged out to his PA’s desk.

‘Judith,’ he said. ‘I want you to contact Laura Ferrugia’s PA and find out the phone number of Laura’s best friend. Her name is Alison—that’s all I know, I’m afraid. I know it’s an odd request but just do this for me, will you?’

Judith, who was a sensible woman who liked her job, didn’t argue. ‘Fine.’

Five minutes later, she handed Ryan a piece of paper with a phone number written down on it.

‘She didn’t really want to give it to me,’ she said. ‘You didn’t tell me that Laura no longer worked there. I had to say it was an emergency.’

‘It is an emergency,’ he told her.

‘Care to tell me more?’

‘Not right now.’

‘Just as well I’m not a curious type,’ she said, and went back to her desk.

He called the number straight away, his heartbeat quickening as he waited for someone to answer. At last, a woman’s voice said, ‘Hello?’

‘Is that Alison?’

‘Yes? Who is this?’

‘Ryan Armstrong.’

He heard her sharp intake of breath. ‘What on earth are you doing ringing me?’

‘I just heard about Laura’s grandmother,’ he said swiftly.

‘I’ve been trying to ring Laura but her phone’s switched off. I was hoping you could tell me if her grandmother’s been buried yet. I’d like to go to the funeral.’

‘Laura wouldn’t want you there.’

‘I’d still like to go.’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, give the girl a break, will you? And just stay away from her. She doesn’t want any more to do with you.’

Ryan decided then and there that if he wanted to win Laura he also had to win her best friend.

‘She doesn’t want anything to do with the man I used to be,’ Ryan said. ‘She might want to have something to do with the man I am today.’

‘And what’s that, pray tell?’

No doubting the cynicism in her voice.

‘A man in love.’

Now he heard an even sharper intake of breath.

‘I love Laura, Alison. And I want to marry her. Now tell me when the funeral is.’

‘Oh Lord, it’s today. In a couple of hours.’

‘And you’re not there with her?’ he threw at her somewhat accusingly.

‘I would have been but my little boy isn’t well. He’s asthmatic, you see, and has a bad bout of hay fever today. I daren’t leave him.’

‘I see. Is it being held at the chapel near the Hunter Valley gardens?’ he asked.

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘Never mind. I have to go, Alison, if I’m going to make it in time.’

‘Yes, yes. Just go. And Ryan?’

‘Yes?’

‘For what it’s worth, I think Laura loves you too.’

A wild joy flooded Ryan’s heart. ‘What makes you think so?’

‘I’ve thought so from the day after she went to bed with you. Laura only has sex with men she loves. She’s that kind of girl.’

Ryan smiled. That was one of the reasons he loved her.

‘Have to go, Alison.’

‘Hurry, Ryan. Laura needs you.’

Yes, he agreed silently as he grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the door. Just as much as he needed her. They needed each other, two lonely, seriously screwed-up people whom life had hurt but whom life hadn’t totally beaten yet.

Laura sat in the front pew of the chapel, trying not to look at her gran’s coffin, or the masses of yellow roses which covered the lid. Every time she looked at the yellow roses she wanted to cry. They had been Jane’s favourite flower. When Laura had left school and started living in her parents’ house at North Manly, her gran had bought her several yellow rose-bushes to plant in her garden to remind Laura of her.

As if I would ever need reminding, Laura thought as tears threatened once more.

Panic joined her tears, for it was her turn to speak. Uncle Bill and Aunt Cynthia had asked her to give the main eulogy, claiming they were both poor public speakers whereas she was used to it. She’d shied away from doing it at first before accepting that it was the last way she would be able to express her gratitude to Jane for all she’d done for her. She’d written down what she wanted to say, lest she forget it. Now she stared down at the piece of paper on which she’d written the inadequate words, seeing that it was nothing more than a twisted crunched-up mess in her lap. It was impossible to straighten it out.

When Aunt Cynthia nudged her in the ribs, she rose and stumbled up to the podium. Somehow she managed to relate the story of Jane’s early life from memory, dry facts really, about where her grandmother was born and where she went to school. She spoke of Jane’s love of country life and of gardening.

She then mentioned her marriage, complimenting her on being a loving and loyal wife, and a devoted mother.

But the moment she came to where she wanted to say how wonderful a grandmother she had been, her mouth went bone dry and a huge lump filled her throat. She looked down and tried to straighten out the crumpled sheet of paper but it was all a blur. Dying of embarrassment, she was staring down the only aisle of the small church when suddenly, through the blur, striding towards her with forceful steps, was the last man on earth she expected to see at that moment. My God, she thought wildly as her heart whirled and her heart lurched. What on earth was Ryan doing here?

He didn’t hesitate, crossing the strip of carpet that still separated them, stepping up to stand close to her and slide a strongly supportive arm around her waist.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said gently as he pulled her against him. ‘Got a bit lost without Jane’s splendid directions.’

Laura blinked up at him, having been rendered even more speechless than before.

‘I take it you’re having a spot of trouble,’ he whispered, having glanced down at the still-crinkled paper. ‘As you can see, folks,’ he continued in full voice, ‘Laura is slightly overcome with the situation. Which is understandable, given how much she loved her gran. So I’m going to finish speaking for her. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Ryan Armstrong and I’m Laura’s boyfriend.’

Ryan hoped like hell that she hadn’t said anything to her family about their having broken up. He suspected that she might not have done so just yet. She was proud, his Laura. He felt reassured by Cynthia’s eyes, which weren’t looking at him with shock, or even surprise—reassured also by Laura’s acquiescence to his arm around her.

‘Now, I didn’t know Jane all that well,’ he went on. ‘We only met once, over one short weekend. But that was long enough for me to see she was one of those grandmothers that make the world a better place to live in, especially for their grandchildren. I know something about grandmothers like that. I had one myself. I know how Laura feels, and on her behalf I’d like to thank Jane, as well as all the other amazing grandmothers in this world, for their sweetly giving natures, their unconditional love and their wonderful wisdom.

‘I’m sure if Jane could speak to us today, she would tell us all gathered here in her memory not to be sad. She would want us to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. I know she was extremely proud of Laura, and all her family. Bill, Cynthia, Shane and Lisa: she loved you all dearly.

‘She was also proud of where she lived. She recently showed me the Hunter Valley Gardens, along with this very beautiful little church, saying this was where she wanted her funeral service to be held. Both Laura and I hoped that such an event would be many years in the future. But it was not to be. Let me just say that it was a privilege to know Jane. Goodbye, darling Gran. Rest in Peace.’

Ryan’s arm tightened around Laura as he led her back to her seat, sobbing now, taking a guess that she’d been sitting next to her aunt and uncle in the front pew.

‘Well said, Ryan,’ Bill complimented, his own eyes shimmering with tears. Cynthia was incapable of saying anything, a handkerchief held up to her face as she wept quietly into it.

Ryan found himself quite choked up too, feeling genuine grief—and some more remorse too, for not flying back to Australia and speaking at his own grandmother’s funeral. If only one could go back in time …

But he could still remember how alone he’d felt at the time, thinking that the one and only person in his life that he could count on was gone. Laura was probably feeling the same.

He had to make her see, however, that she could count on him, that he wasn’t the feckless fool she imagined him to be. She was still weeping quietly when they left the church. Ryan was thankful that they weren’t going on to some wretchedly dreary graveyard, Bill quickly explaining to him outside the church that his mother had requested that she be cremated privately and her ashes sprinkled on her beloved rose garden. It seemed a much better ending, in Ryan’s opinion, than being buried. But each to his own.

‘Where’s the wake being held?’ he asked Bill.

‘Back at the house. I presume Laura will be going back in your car, Ryan?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘See you back there shortly, then.’

When Ryan steered Laura over to where he’d parked his car, she didn’t argue with him, a testimony to her distressed state. But shortly after they joined the long lines of cars heading back to the house she pulled herself together and glanced over at him with a deep frown crinkling her forehead.

‘I still don’t understand how you knew about Gran’s funeral,’ she said. ‘Or even why you came.’

Ryan supposed he could make up a plausible lie—that he’d seen a funeral notice in the paper. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to be totally honest with Laura from now on. It was the only way she would be able to trust him.

‘Greg Harvey told me about your gran’s death this morning when he rang to offer me a new lawyer. I tried to ring you straight away but your phone’s turned off. So I rang Alison and she told me when and where the funeral was.’

‘Alison? But you don’t know her number.’

‘I made it my business to find it.’

‘But why?’ There was total confusion in her voice.

‘Because I love you, Laura,’ he said, turning to look her straight in the eye.

Laura’s mouth fell open, her eyes widening at the same time.

‘I love you and I want to marry you,’ he added, knowing that a declaration of love was not going to be enough. For how many men used false words of love to seduce women back into their beds? He had never been guilty of such tactics but he imagined other men had. Certainly dear old Mario and Brad had.

‘You want to marry me?’ she echoed, clearly in shock at his proposal.

‘Yes. And have children with you. I want it all. I’ve been thinking about it for days and that’s what I want with you, Laura. I’m hoping that’s what you want too.’

Laura could hardly believe what she was hearing, or contain the joy that washed into her until then despairing soul. For she knew instinctively that Ryan would not lie about something as serious as marriage and children. Love, yes; he might lie about that. But not the rest.

It came to her suddenly that he must know about her falling in love with him. Alison would have told him something. Dear, romantic-minded Alison who could not resist a happy ending, no matter how unlikely the couple.

‘Did Alison tell you that I loved you?’ she choked out.

‘She said she thought you did,’ he admitted. ‘But I would have come today even if she hadn’t said anything.’

Somehow, his knowing that she loved him momentarily burst her bubble of happiness. It brought doubts as well. Laura needed more understanding of his dramatic change of heart before she could blindly say yes to his amazing proposal. She needed the comfort of knowledge.

‘But you said you would never fall in love, or get married and have children,’ she pointed out.

‘That was before I met you, Laura.’

‘No, you said it after you met me. You said it more than once. You warned me.’

‘I didn’t realise then that I would fall in love with you. I didn’t know what falling in love felt like. I didn’t think I was capable of it.’

‘But why would you think that? Everyone is capable of love.’

‘I know that now. But till I met you I refused to let it into my life.’

‘You have to tell me why, Ryan. You have to make me understand.

I do love you, more than I ever thought possible. But I can’t marry you unless I know why you felt like that.’

He sighed, then nodded. ‘You’re right; I know you’re right. It’s just so damned hard to talk about it, that’s all.’

‘If you truly love me, Ryan, then you have to trust me with your past. I promise I will never tell another living soul. Not Alison. Not anyone.’

Laura could see the difficulty he was still having, opening up to her. What terrible trauma had he endured as a child, she wondered, that would make him retreat from emotion as he had? She hated to think he might have been abused in some way, but what else could it be?

‘I love you,’ she repeated. ‘I will always love you, no matter what you tell me.’

He still didn’t speak so she just sat there and said nothing further. The long line of cars was making slow progress on their way back to the house, giving him enough time to decide whether to confide in her or not.

‘My mother didn’t die of cancer,’ he said at last. ‘She was murdered.’

Laura only just managed not to gasp in shock, for it was the last thing she was expecting.

‘But not by any stranger,’ he added in a rough, emotion-charged voice. ‘By my father. Her de facto husband. The man she said she loved. The man who claimed he loved her, even as she lay battered to death at his feet.’

‘Oh, Ryan …’

‘I found her, you know, when I came home from school. Lying next to the kitchen table in a pool of blood.’

‘Oh my God …’

‘She’d cooked me a cake. It was still on the table. It was my twelfth birthday.’

Laura closed her eyes. Lord in heaven, no child should have to endure that. She’d thought she’d had it bad when her parents had been killed. But it had been an accident. They hadn’t been murdered.

‘He was sitting on the floor next to her, crying. I … I …’

When it was obvious he could not go on, Laura reached over and placed her hand gently over his, which was suddenly gripping the wheel like a drowning man holding on to a piece of flotsam. ‘You don’t have to tell me any more right now. I can see you had good reasons to reject love and marriage and fatherhood. We’ll talk about it later.’ Much later.

Ryan shook his head. ‘No, I want to tell you now. I want you to understand. It had been going on for years—the violence. The beatings. Not me, just Mum. The only times he hit me were when I tried to protect her. Even then he would just push me aside. He was insanely jealous of her. Wouldn’t let her go to work, wouldn’t let her leave the house or have any more babies. When she became pregnant once—I think I was about seven—he accused her of having an affair, then he punched her in the stomach over and over till she miscarried.’

‘Oh my God! That’s appalling, Ryan. But didn’t people know what was going on? Your neighbours? Your grandparents?’

‘Domestic violence was very common where we lived. A lot of the men were unemployed. My father did work occasionally, but he was unreliable. He was a drunk, you see. We mostly lived on welfare, in a housing-commission place which should have been condemned.

‘As for relatives, Dad refused to have anything to do with any relatives, especially Mum’s. Though I knew my Mum’s mother was alive. Mum told me her name and where she lived and said if anything ever happened to her that I was to go to my grandmother’s place. She even hid some money in a secret place which she called my escape money. Many times I thought about taking it and just going, but how could I leave her to him? I begged her to come with me but she wouldn’t. She said she loved him. I could never understand that. It made no sense to me.’

‘I don’t think she loved him at all by then, Ryan. She was simply scared to death of him. I had a battered wife as a client once. She stabbed her husband in the end.’

‘I thought about killing my father several times. I wish I had.’

‘I can imagine. So what happened to him? I presume he was arrested for murder?’

‘He pleaded guilty and got twenty years. But he was bashed to death a few months later in jail. It seems the other prisoners don’t take kindly to wife killers.’

‘I can understand that. And I can understand you now, Ryan.’ Very much so, the poor darling. It was no wonder he never wanted to talk about the past, and no wonder he’d rejected love for so long. ‘I really appreciate your confiding in me, but you know what? I think we’ve done enough talking about the past for today. I would much prefer to talk about the future.’

He glanced over at her and smiled. ‘A woman after my own heart.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, smiling back at him. ‘I am after your heart.’

‘You already have it, my love.’

Her own heart turned over. ‘I’m still coming to terms with that.’

‘You’re not the only one. When I realised I loved you, I wasn’t sure what to do because I thought you would never love me back. I mean, how could you possibly love such a selfish, self-centred, screwed-up individual like me?’

Laura groaned. ‘I hated myself afterwards for saying that, because I don’t think that at all. I think you’re a fine man, decent and kind, with a warm, loving soul. Look at the way you talked about grandmothers at the service just now. It was beautiful, the words you said.’

Ryan’s heart squeezed tight at her sweet compliments. ‘Can I take it, then, that you will marry me?’

Her eyes shone as she looked over at him. ‘Whenever and wherever you would like.’

‘How about first thing in the New Year, up here in Jane’s favourite chapel?’

Laura smiled. ‘Sounds like a good idea to me.’