Other Side of the Season Read online

  ‘Dad was furious at Mum for corresponding in the first place. He wrote back to Matthew basically to say bugger off and to tell him that Greenhill would be left entirely to me, as I needed it more. If not for Mum, Dad might have cut Matthew off completely. But Matthew being Matthew, he refused to let the matter go. That’s when he started writing to me. I seriously believe he thought I’d see his reasoning and support him. Before long he was back negotiating with Dad.’

  ‘Negotiating? What do you mean?’

  A smirk crossed David’s face. ‘If not the full inheritance, Matthew was willing to settle for a majority share in Greenhill–with conditions. Always with the addendum that I would be well cared for and so on. Back and forth, back and forth, until Dad finally stopped replying. I also stopped replying to his emails.’

  If anyone other than David had been telling Natalie this, she’d have had trouble accepting it as the truth. How could all this have been going on behind her back? Had she been so caught up in her own world?

  ‘He stewed away for several more years, because that’s what Matthew did–he obsessed over things,’ David explained, ‘he couldn’t let go and he’d never admit defeat. His next strategy was to rub a little salt into my wounds by bragging about life with his wife and two beautiful children, knowing I’d never have any myself. He even emailed baby photos. I guess it was some sort of one-upmanship.’

  ‘Surely not!’

  David looked concerned. ‘Tilly, you’ve turned pale.’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? I can get you some water, but only if you promise you won’t disappear as soon as I turn my back.’ David’s smile, while small and guarded, was like an injection of hope. Hope that they might find their way out of this without anyone else getting hurt, or any more pain than David had already suffered.

  ‘The tea is fine. Fresh air might help.’

  ‘How about I show you Rose Gallery?’

  ‘Okay.’ Anything to divert the conversation away from her children, Natalie thought as she slid her stool back and stood up, only then realising how shaky she was on her legs.

  They were en route to the gallery, through the ornament-heavy garden, when David’s next words sent another wave of nausea through her body.

  ‘You know, Tilly, I would sometimes look at those photos he sent, trying to see Matthew in the kids’ faces.’ He laughed, sharp and small. ‘When I couldn’t, I told myself the subjects weren’t real. Both pictures were of good-looking kids–babies really–perfectly posed and smiling. Knowing Matthew he probably pinched the picture from a photo frame he’d bought. Nothing would surprise me.’ He laughed again. ‘My brother always was–’

  ‘Okay, that’s it! Stop, David! Just stop.’ Natalie couldn’t take another step.

  David ceased laughing. ‘I’m sorry. Was that a bad joke? I guess I’m not used to talking to anyone about this.’

  ‘Why are you joking? There’s nothing at all funny about any of this, David. Please, just stop talking.’ She pressed a hand to her chest.

  ‘Tilly, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Give me a minute. I need to catch my breath.’

  ‘Come and sit.’ Outside the gallery, David lowered himself onto the red cedar bench by the door, tugging on Natalie’s arm to join him there. She did. She had to sit or else fall. ‘Do not pass out on me now. Not again.’

  What would he do if she did? Maybe she could fake a fall, like she’d fooled him all those times running back along the breakwall to their bikes, when he’d stop, worry streaked across his brow as his hands soft and sexy gently prodded her ankle to look for swelling even though, by the third or fourth occasion, he’d cottoned on to her ruse.

  No, Natalie! No more lies.

  Besides, if she were to fake a dizzy spell, with David’s reliance on crutches these days, he might have to let her fall.

  No less than what you’d deserve.

  They sat next to each other on the wooden seat that looked a lot like a church pew–perhaps fitting given the confession Natalie could no longer avoid. She tried to ignore David’s body squared to hers, his gaze boring into the side of her neck as she focused straight ahead, out across the plantation that had been their playground. He was so close Natalie would hardly have to move to touch him, to press her body against his and nestle her face on that broad shoulder. How desperately she wanted to reach out, to touch, to connect.

  ‘I need a minute, please.’ She thrust her palm towards David, using it to block his face. The last thing she needed was to look into his eyes.

  Sidney’s eyes.

  But look she did, and something about David’s face managed to do what no one and nothing had ever done to Natalie. She who never cried now shed a river of tears.

  He knows. Of course he knows.

  And why wouldn’t he? Natalie had seen him in Sidney every day of her life. Every time her little girl had pinned a finger painting to the fridge, every time her troubled teenager had got excited, every time a grown-up daughter had tried to impress her mother with her latest design job. How was she expected to leave the past behind when she saw David in everything her daughter did, every question she ever asked, every enthusiastic exclamation, every hopeful expression?

  ‘Tilly?’

  She couldn’t respond. She couldn’t do anything but focus on David’s bare feet. Wasn’t he cold without shoes? Natalie wore boots and socks under the navy trousers and she was very cold. Freezing in fact, even when David’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and the prickles of the jumper she wore pushed through the thin undershirt each time his hand rubbed up and down, up and down–prickling, provoking, pushing her buttons to the point of wanting to scream: Stop, please just stop!

  ‘You weren’t supposed to survive,’ she blurted, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Matthew and I had to go on without you, so we made a pact to never look back–only towards the future and to making a life together. Everything I did was for my children.’

  ‘That’s the thing, Tilly,’ David shifted awkwardly to face her. ‘One of Matthew’s emails asked me not to tell Rose or Ted we were in touch. I didn’t question why at the time. I didn’t question anything. Not even why he never again mentioned his family, other than that one time when he sent a photo of his children. Even then he’d referred to his wife as the missus and the children as the kids. Mostly his emails were about Greenhill. I had no idea for such a long time. I thought about you. I’d imagined your life–every conceivable scenario–but never that. Discovering Rose’s hidden letters–the ones from Matthew that mentioned your name once or twice–narrowed those scenarios down. Mum and Dad had told me you were both gone, although nothing about marrying. Then Albie showed up that day and said something about you and Matthew. I saw the panic on Rose’s face. I knew.’

  ‘You must’ve hated me.’

  ‘For a long time I hated the entire world, Tilly. My early prognosis was so grim I wished I did die that day.’

  ‘But here you are.’

  ‘And here you are.’ They fell silent, their eyes locked on each other.

  David finally spoke, his lips curving into a wry smile, one eyebrow cocked. ‘You and Matthew, eh? Talk about chalk and bloody cheese.’

  ‘I couldn’t be on my own, David.’ Natalie looked down at the strangled hands in her lap. ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘So you said. And I couldn’t cope with any more of Matthew’s emails. No sense wishing he hadn’t sent them, or that Albie hadn’t shown up that day. There’s no changing the facts any more than we can change the past. We have to accept things and move on.’ When he tried to lift her face to his, Natalie shrugged him away. ‘I knew I had to try when Matt attached that photo of his kids, suggesting my parents might like to know their grandchildren and amend their wills accordingly. That was the day I decided to stop corresponding. He did try a couple more times. Then, one day, the emails stopped arriving and I stopped thinking about him. Call me a nostalgic nerd, but I still carry these around.’ David shifted to
retrieve a wallet from the deep side pocket on the cargo-style pants. He exposed two small photos that shared a mould-spotted plastic cover. ‘Don’t ask me why. Maybe deep down I wished they were real and somewhere out there was a child to carry on the Hill name, because I can’t. Rose had wanted that more than anything. She could have been a grandmother if Matthew had let her. I could have been an uncle.’

  ‘Oh, David . . .’ Tilly watched the expression on his face move through curiosity, confusion and finally . . .

  ‘So, they are real.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘Yes, the children in that picture are real, David. I know this to be true because . . .’

  ‘Because they’re your children?’

  ‘Yes. A boy and a girl.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Both those photos are from their first birthdays.’

  He looked at her and something in his face changed. ‘I can finally put real names to the faces?’

  ‘Yes. That’s my son, Jake.’ She went to point but realised her hand was trembling too much. ‘He’s the younger.’ Adding quickly, proudly, ‘He’s twenty-five now.’

  ‘Jake,’ David repeated, his eyes never moving from the wallet in his hands. ‘And the older one would be . . . ?’

  Oh God, why was he making her do this? He knew. He knew!

  Natalie filled her lungs with air, breathing her response. ‘A girl,’ she said. ‘I named her after one of your favourites.’

  ‘Hmm, good ol’ Nolan.’ There was silence as David stared at the old photo in his wallet, followed by a single word, ‘Sidney.’

  ‘So, David, now you know why I had to leave town and why I couldn’t be on my own. If not the Marhkts, then your parents would have made me have an abortion. Do you know how many girls I saw growing up in homes who’d had babies taken away from them, or who were themselves surrendered, the result of unwanted pregnancies? People did all sorts of terrible things to single mothers and their babies once and, if they didn’t take the babies away, so many grew up living rough on the streets with a mother who . . . Oh God!’ Natalie was sobbing again.

  Natalie, who never cried, was a frightened five-year-old girl, bawling her eyes out.

  42

  Watercolour Cove, 2015

  Natalie sat in a sliver of sunlight, her old knitted blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She’d needed time alone. Maybe David had wanted the same, because he’d walked away without a word, leaving Natalie to dry her own tears. He was back now, seated beside her, his proximity bringing warmth to a body benumbed.

  ‘Thank you, David,’ she said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For giving me the opportunity to explain, I guess. For not sending me away.’

  ‘Why would I do that when I never wanted you to leave in the first place?’

  ‘You have to know I loved you, David, but I couldn’t stay if it meant giving up my baby because you were gone. You must realise, had there been one scrap of a chance they’d let me keep our child before you were hurt, that scrap would’ve been tossed to the chooks after your accident. I was equally terrified of having my baby taken away, or ending up like my mother: single, alone, destitute and desperate. And I couldn’t trust Albie to keep my secret. So, when Matthew said they were taking you off life support, I–’

  ‘Both Albie and Matthew knew you were pregnant with my baby?’

  Did she just shake her head, or was it a nod? Should she confess the whole truth? That back then Tilly couldn’t be sure who the father was.

  ‘Even if you only suspected, you should have told me,’ David was saying.

  ‘I wanted to, but you were so angry with me and I was too stubborn. We’d had a terrible argument. Then you were taken to hospital and I was so afraid and so . . . desperate.’

  ‘Desperate enough to leave this place and live our dream, only with my brother, not me.’

  ‘Desperate to have a father for our child, David. You weren’t expected to live. That’s what your parents told us.’

  David’s head cocked to the side. ‘My parents told you that? Or did Matthew?’

  ‘I . . . ah . . .’ Natalie thought back to the discussion that night. Some things were still so clear, even after all these years, like when Ted had looked up, cheeks wet with his grief, to speak those words: Don’t you understand, Tilly? David isn’t there. We’ve lost our beautiful, spirited little boy. He’s gone. The click of Ted’s fingers had been like a shock of electricity through Tilly. So too were Rose’s words: All that provocative strutting around the property, tempting all the boys and making them fight over you.

  All the boys? Had Tilly meant to tempt Matthew when trying to impress his younger brother?

  ‘I remember now, David,’ she said, her eyes wide with the memory. ‘It was Matthew who told me, at the breakwall one day. He told me your parents would never let you be with me. He said something about there being winners and losers in life and that he and I were born losers. Then he said splitting up with me put you back in your dad’s good books and started him talking about a university in Melbourne.’

  ‘That’s not true. Not how it was at all.’

  ‘After your accident, Matthew was the one to tell me they were turning off your life support and–’ Natalie slumped in the seat, both hands clasping the sides of her head. ‘No, no, no!’

  He’d tricked her? She wanted to shake herself silly. How had someone who’d manipulated people all her life not seen someone doing the same to her?

  ‘Tilly? What is it? Talk to me.’

  She shivered as clouds blocked the sun, putting them both in the shade. ‘Oh, David, Matthew was trying to come between us even before your accident.’

  David nodded, a silent acceptance of something he’d perhaps known all along.

  ‘Matthew warned me once,’ he explained. ‘He said if I wasn’t quick that someone would come along and snatch you up. Never did I think he was talking about himself. The two of you had nothing in common.’

  ‘I never knew.’

  ‘Matthew wanted you, Tilly, and a single punch to my head from Albie gave you to him. He could go with you and give you what you wanted, confident Greenhill would be his eventually.’

  ‘You knew all along it was Albie who punched you and that you didn’t just fall?’

  ‘The memory of what happened came back like a mosaic–in bits and pieces and all out of context. The completed picture took a while. By then Albie was long gone. Even if he’d stayed, what happened would have been his word against mine. It looked like I’d slipped in the dark. I’m certain of one thing, though, the bloke didn’t mean to hurt me. Call it a lucky punch for him and a bloody unlucky landing for me.’

  His laugh surprised Tilly. ‘How can you make jokes?’

  ‘Lately, I seem to have found a reason to see life with fresh eyes. I wasn’t convinced what that reason might have been until I heard it from your lips today,’ David said. ‘What I find hardest to believe is that my parents knew about you and Matthew all that time.’

  ‘They were protecting you.’

  ‘So fiercely that I fear they may have encouraged Matthew’s estrangement.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Bank account details and the letters I found. Mum was sending him money every week, probably because Dad had basically disowned Matthew, leaving him nothing.’

  The other bank account! Nat had discovered thousands of dollars in an account–all deposits–when tidying up her husband’s affairs. While she’d been working day and night, keeping her job any way she could, her husband had been squirrelling away money.

  ‘I can’t believe your parents would pay to keep their son away.’

  ‘They wanted me to get over you. They were worried. There were a couple of times, in the early days, that I . . . Anyway . . .’ David wiped his hands over his trouser legs, like he was pushing the memory away. ‘I can only tell myself that my parents did what they thought was best.’

  ‘They loved you, as I did. I never stopped
thinking about you, David.’ The confession felt good. ‘When I found Matthew’s old email files and realised you were alive somewhere, I wondered where you were and what you were doing with your life. But then I had to let you go again. I think I went back to imagining you’d died to stop torturing myself with why you could communicate with your brother, but not want to see him, or me. When I saw your reflection in the sculpture on the breakwall, I told myself I should keep you and this place as a memory.’

  The intensity of his stare heated her to the core. ‘So, you might have simply come up to Coffs Harbour, seen your son, then left again without seeing if I was still here?’

  ‘No more lies, David, okay?’ Natalie breathed deep. ‘The truth is, I don’t know. Firstly, I had no idea a trip to a Coffs Harbour hospital to see Jake would land me on Greenhill’s doorstep. I wasn’t prepared for that, even though the last place I thought you’d still be is here. I knew only that those emails I discovered meant you’d lived and that maybe you were alive–somewhere. When I saw a For Sale sign at the gate, I thought . . . Well, I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. Yes, getting Jake and getting out of the area as fast as I could did cross my mind. As recently as yesterday, in fact.’

  ‘You were leaving?’

  ‘Yes, but the irony is, I couldn’t. I was once so eager to get away, to live an exciting city life, I was prepared to do anything. But yesterday, when I had the chance, I couldn’t go. You were so close. I had to see you again. I had to know you were real.’ Her fingers touched his cheek. ‘See how you’d aged, hear your voice. I would never have come back to this town at all if not for–’

  ‘If not for Sidney.’ He smiled, the lines on his face a map of love as he spoke her name. ‘I’m not sure why I didn’t see something in her sooner.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  David took her hand and held tight. ‘That first time I saw Sid, she was sitting in a room, in a dim light and surrounded by drawings–of you.’

  ‘Me?’