Stone Castles (6 page)

‘Well, it's Luke, actually.'

‘Luke.' She knew it. ‘As in Luke Trenorden, you mean.'

Tracey's lips pulled tight over her teeth, her eyes more than a little worried. ‘That won't be a problem, will it? I mean, it's been ages, after all.'

Pip shook her head, not to say no, but because if she shook it long enough, something might shake loose that could make sense of all this. Because nothing was making sense so far. ‘You seriously want me and Luke to be Chloe's godparents. Me and Luke. The two of us. Together.'

‘Well, yeah. Luke's Craig's choice, and you're mine.'

‘What about Fi? Why not ask her?'

‘She's already godmother to both Ben and Callan. I could hardly ask her again. And besides, you're here and it would be so nice.'

Nice.

Pip had an idea about what comprised nice and Luke Trenorden didn't feature anywhere in it. ‘I was really hoping not to bump into Luke while I was here.' And already she had. Already she had to cope with the discovery that he wasn't looking middle-aged and porky. The thought of having to rub shoulders with him again . . .

‘Maybe it's time you two buried the hatchet. You used to be so close.'

‘
Used to be
being the operative words there, Trace.'

‘Yeah, but all that was a long time ago.'

‘And I'm still angry with him! Besides which, I don't think Sharon will be too impressed if I do it. I still remember her glaring at me at Fi's wedding, like she was worried the ghost of girlfriends past was going to snatch away her prize catch from under her nose.'

Tracey looked up. ‘Oh. You didn't hear?'

‘Hear what?'

‘Sharon's gone. Left Luke a good three or four years back.'

‘What? Why?'

Her friend shrugged. ‘Who knows? Apparently she started seeing this guy while they were still married and now she's shacked up with him in Adelaide somewhere.'

‘The bitch!'

‘Yeah, well, Luke seems to be blessed with women who cut and run.'

Oh, no. She wasn't about to let herself be shoved in the same box as a woman who had been unfaithful to him. ‘Come on, Trace, that's a bit harsh.'

‘Is it? You left him high and dry too. You walked away and left him.'

‘It's hardly the same thing. I wasn't being unfaithful. I didn't just walk out on him for no reason. He let me down too.'

‘Pip, it was hardly his fault.'

‘He knew, dammit. He knew and he never said.'

‘I know. But would you really have wanted to hear, even if he had told you?'

She shook her head and this time it was to deny Tracey the reply she knew her friend was looking for. Because she
would
have wanted to know. Anyone in the same position would have wanted to know.

Tracey didn't wait for her to answer, just gathered up Chloe in her arms and said, ‘God, I'm sorry, Pip, I shouldn't have said anything and now I've gone and upset you on your first day back. And that's the last thing I wanted to do. I'm really just so glad you're here. Truly. You decide what you want to do and let me know.'

She gave her shoulder a squeeze and Pip listened numbly while she told her about the provisions in the fridge and the rudimentary pantry if she wanted to have breakfast and get away early to the nursing home. ‘But you're welcome over in the house if you want to eat with us.'

Pip smiled and leant against her friend for a moment in the doorway before she left, breathing in the sweet smell of baby and a woman that smelled of apple pie and friendship. ‘I'm sorry, Trace. I'm tired and jet-lagged and cranky. I'll be better tomorrow, I promise.'

‘And I promise not to upset you.' She kissed her friend on the brow. ‘Sleep well, sweetie.'

‘I will. And Trace, I mean it. I'd love to be Chloe's godmother. I'll be there, subject to Gran. Just so you know.'

Tracey smiled and pulled her into a goodnight hug.

Chapter Nine

T
he bed was wide and soft and blissful. But that wasn't the best thing about it. The best thing was that it didn't come with the drone of aeroplane engines or the muted sounds and lights of NYC outside her window.

The best thing was that it came with the sounds of silence.

Which was perfect for an entire ten minutes before the silence suddenly sounded deafening.

It was a relief when she heard the car. It was definitely a car. She heard it coming, and coming, and still coming – and then she heard it go, and keep going.

One car.

And not even on the dirt road, she realised, but on the sealed highway between Moonta and Maitland that was the best part of a mile away.

And then there was nothing again. Silence, as thick and dampening as a winter cloud.

Silence.

Nothing to hear but her thoughts.

He wasn't married.

She rolled over onto her back and stared upwards into the darkness. What a surprise her thoughts would toss that gem up first?

But what did that matter?

It wasn't like she was interested. She'd breathed a sigh of relief when she'd first read the news he'd married. He'd moved on. Everyone was moving on. It was how it should be.

So what that his marriage was over? They'd all had failed relationships.

She rolled over, punched her pillow and got out of bed to open the curtains. She was exhausted. She should have been asleep by now, but if she couldn't sleep, she might as well look at the stars.

All she needed to do was think about all those gorgeous stars.

He'd looked so damned good today.

Not that she'd been looking. Well, it had been hard not to. Didn't mean anything.

She gave up on the promise of the stars and rolled over again, wishing she could roll away from her thoughts, and cursing a man she'd had no intention of meeting up with, cursing the bastard fates that hadn't let her get through even one day back without running into him, and were now promising a second encounter. What was with that?

Luke Trenorden was nothing to her, and she had more important things to think about.

Like her tiny, shrunken gran.

No. Her amazing gran.

Yes, that's what she should be thinking about.

Amazing Gran, who'd shown her how to milk cows and separate cream from milk in a separator, and then how to churn that cream into butter and pat it into blocks with wooden paddles.

Amazing Gran, who'd taught her to use a treadle sewing machine so well that she'd won the sewing prize at high school – even when everyone else had been using electric machines.

Amazing Gran, who could make a wood stove do her bidding, whether it was cooking a roast or a batch of her famous fairy cakes.

Ninety years ago she'd been born, in a time when the fortunes of the Yorke Peninsula were already moving beyond the glory days of the rich copper mines of Moonta and Kadina and Wallaroo. Since then the trains had come and gone, and towering silos had risen high above the golden paddocks where mine shafts had once been dug.

Ninety years between then and now, and still the silence of the night hung heavy on the land. Still the same stars twinkled down upon the earth.

So many changes in all those years, she thought, as she drifted. So many changes.

And yet so much stayed the same . . .

Morning came with such a blast of sunshine through the open curtains that it was impossible for Pip to roll over and ignore it. There was no going back to sleep.

So she rubbed her eyes against the glare and found her phone and some new messages from Carmen.

How's your gran?

More importantly – how are you?

The third one made her smile.

So tell me about the wildlife

Pip lay back against her pillows as she texted back. She knew exactly what kind of wildlife her flatmate was referring to.

Gran's holding.

I'm fine.

She bit her lip at the sudden flash of memory of a man in jeans and Blundstones but overrode that thought to text,

And there's a guy called Adam. A policeman.

A reply came back almost instantaneously.

Love a man in uniform!

He pulled me over. Flashing lights, the lot.

Lucky you! Cute?

Pretty much.

Jealous!

Pip sent her back a smiley face and hauled herself from the bed. One night she'd treat herself to a spa, but for now the shower was hot and strong and Pip lifted her face into the stream and luxuriated in the flow. Daylight and hot showers had a wonderful way of putting things into perspective, she thought, letting the water sluice away the overblown concerns of the night. Luke was an inconvenience, that was all. She'd seen him once and she'd survived the experience and so she would again.

Case closed.

Now she'd slept and felt almost human again and it was a brand new day. And from now on there would be no more shocks, no more feeling sorry for herself and no more of those damned tears.

She could hardly wait.

It was still way too early to bother anyone else when she slipped away, although the morning sun already felt hot to her winter skin. And unlike the drive out, when she'd been battling fatigue, the drive back to the nursing home this morning was a pleasure. The rising sun turned the golden paddocks brazen and bold, and there were details she'd missed last night, details she'd forgotten about in her time away, like the clusters of paddy melons every now and then along the highway, and the callistemons with their brushes of vivid red. She smiled as a car passed her the other way, because she'd also forgotten about the country salute, the two fingers raised while the palm stayed on the steering wheel.

By the time she reciprocated, the car was well past, but that didn't matter. They wouldn't think her rude as such. They'd have taken one look at the Audi and assumed she was some ignorant city chick.

Which made her smile, because she kind of was.

‘Morning Gran,' she said a few minutes later when she arrived at the nursing home, kissing her papery brow before sliding into the seat alongside the bed. Aled Jones was singing ‘How Great Thou Art' on the CD player and her gran's eyes were closed, but there was that momentary twitch of the lips, that flicker of recognition that someone was there, and Pip smiled and gently put her fingers into her cool palm and chatted a while about the farm and Chloe and the dinner she'd had last night that had reminded her of dinners around their own kitchen table so many years ago. She reminisced about the treats Gran used to make for her and Trent – the butterfly cakes and thickly cut corned beef sandwiches they'd take out to the stone mounds with a flask of cordial to keep them fuelled for another day's construction work hollowing out their hidey hole. And how, when he could slip away from his chores, Luke would join them. Sometimes they'd pretend they were deep inside a pirate ship and Luke was the captain. But more often than not the stone mounds would be their fortress, a stone castle where nobody could hurt them.

And then, because that was suddenly dangerous territory, she picked up the book she'd been reading yesterday in one hand and, holding her gran's fingers in the other, started to read.

Staff dropped by to check on Violet and to turn her or moisten her dry lips and mouth, but mostly it was just Pip and Gran and the story of the Cornish miners who had travelled so far and risked so much to make a dangerous living in the colony of South Australia, as Violet's own grandparents had done so many years before. And as she read, she was struck with the uncomfortable knowledge that her forebears had worked so hard and in such difficult conditions to carve out an existence in their new home – and she'd all but turned her back on it. She shouldn't feel guilty, she knew. It was a different time and a changed world. Nobody would have expected her to be beholden to the past, her forebears would no doubt be proud of all she'd achieved, and yet still, the hollow feeling in her gut persisted.

For their lives had been filled with work and family and festivals, while her life was filled with numbers and spreadsheets and reports. Somehow it didn't seem enough.

Someone brought Pip a sandwich and a cup of tea around noon, and it was then that she noticed Gran's breathing becoming more laboured.

‘It's changed,' she told one of the carers when they looked in and it hadn't improved. ‘It's like she needs to cough.'

The carer squeezed her shoulder. ‘It's normal for this stage, lovey. We'll get her something to help her breathe.'

And they moved her ever so gently, so Pip tried to once again focus on the words she was reading, but though quieter, her gran's breathing still seemed erratic – racing one minute, stalling for seconds the next – so that she waited, breathless herself, for the next shuddering intake.

Except that when it came, she didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry. ‘Oh, Gran,' she said softly, with tears in her eyes, ‘I wish there was something I could do.'

‘You're doing it, sweetheart.'

She turned to see Molly at the door behind her, a soft smile on her face. ‘I'm about to clock on. Is it okay if I come in for a minute first?'

Pip wiped at her cheeks and nodded and she felt Molly come alongside her on her soundless shoes. The older woman leaned over and stroked Violet's hair. ‘You know, we're not allowed to have favourites, but it's hard not to. Our Vi is a special woman. How's she doing?'

She shook her head. ‘Struggling at times, and then . . . I don't know. I don't know how she keeps going.'

‘It can be like that. People can hover on the edge for hours or days, and I sometimes think it's harder for those of us watching on than it is for them. But just know that she's not suffering, Pip. She's just taking the time to sort things out in her mind,' and she looked at the woman in the bed and smoothed her covers and said, ‘Aren't you, Vi? You're getting everything in order before you go.'

Pip laughed a little then, remembering being instructed on how to dry up the cutlery and place the knives and the forks in the right compartments, just so. ‘That would be Gran. She was always dotting the i's and crossing the t's.'

‘There you go then. She's still got a little work to finish up, that's all. So don't you go wearing yourself out. There may be a way to go yet.'

She smiled up at Molly. ‘Thank you. And I'm glad you're here because I wanted to ask something. Tracey's asked me to be godmother to her baby, Chloe, but the christening is this Sunday. I'm not sure what to do. I mean, I'm not sure if I should leave Gran.'

Molly looked over at Violet. ‘Well, I don't think your gran is the kind of person who'd expect you to miss something as special as a christening of a new baby on her account, especially when you've been asked to be the baby's godmother. Do you?'

Pip thought about it. ‘I guess not.'

Molly patted her hand. ‘But why worry now? Let's see if we get that far and work it out then. Now, can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?'

Pip looked at her watch, surprised to see how much of the afternoon had slipped by. ‘Thanks, but no. I have to go visit a friend before five. I'll be back tomorrow morning. But you'll call me if . . .'

‘Of course,' Molly said, giving the younger woman a hug. And she sniffed like she wasn't completely unaffected and picked up the book Pip had left bookmarked on the bedside cabinet. ‘In that case, I might just read a few pages of this to Vi myself before I officially clock on.'

The main streets of Kadina were wearing their Christmas best. Bunting had been strung between the poles, which were also decked with bright Christmas banners, big gold stars and Christmas trees. Pip had been away so long, it seemed almost wrong to have Christmas in summer, with the sun so bright and hot in the sky. It felt strange not to be dressed in a down coat and boots.

She pushed open the door to Arrangements by Betty, the florist shop Fi's late mum had established decades ago in the ground floor of a building that had once been one of Kadina's grand hotels before being converted into a row of posh shops. A cafe held pride of place on the corner, right next to Arrangements, and next door to that was the bridal store that had served the Copper Coast's bridal needs for more than a decade. Alongside that was the studio of Kadina's finest wedding photographer.

It was like a one stop shop for brides-to-be, with coffee and cake on tap to recuperate.

Either side of the door to Arrangements by Betty sat buckets of brightly coloured flowers and a table of Christmas poinsettias shaded from the summer sun by the verandah above, while the inside of the shop was filled with more flowers and potted lilies and a fridge full of arrangements.

A girl who looked no more than fifteen stood behind the counter, making up a mixed bunch. Pip looked to the door leading out the back, waiting for her friend to appear. ‘Can I help you?' the girl said brightly after the door jangled open.

‘Yes, I was looking for Fi.'

‘She's not here.'

‘Oh. Has she gone home already?'

The girl cocked her head. ‘Did you want to order flowers? Only I can do that.'

‘I really just wanted to see Fi.'

‘She's not here.'

Ri-ght
. ‘So is she at home then? Should I should try her there?'

The girl frowned. ‘You're a friend?'

‘Yes. My name's Pip. I heard she had to go to Wallaroo for a procedure yesterday, but I was told she'd be back at work today. I was hoping to catch up.'

The girl's heavily lined eyes bugged open. ‘You're Pip? That Pip? The one who orders flowers for the nursing home every week? All the way from America?'

‘That's me.'

‘That's why you sound American.'