Family Connections Read online

  She’d have kept in touch if she’d had a brother or sister. It must be so wonderful to have big family parties and…

  Oh, she was a fool! Always wishing for the moon lately.

  * * *

  Brad couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who said she was his daughter. The letter writer must be telling the truth… mustn’t she? Surely no one would lie about a matter as important as that? And she knew about him and Jane.

  The mere thought of this Rosie, another child of his begetting, made him catch his breath in wonder and stop whatever he was doing to contemplate the idea. What did she look like? Did she take after his side of the family or Jane’s? He dearly loved the two children he had raised. He didn’t always agree with them or approve of what they were doing with their lives – which seemed a natural parental reaction to the next generation – but that didn’t stop him loving them. They were flesh of his flesh and that made all the difference.

  He would be happy to love another child, however belatedly.

  Why hadn’t Jane told him?

  He replied to Rosie the day after receiving her letter, noting that she’d given him a PO Box, not a street address, and wondering if that was significant. It was a difficult letter to write, even for a man supposed to be skilled with words, but he assured her that he was indeed the correct Brad Rosenberry and that he wanted very much to meet her, would have done so sooner if he’d known of her existence.

  He wanted to say so much more, to ask about her current life and interests, her childhood, what had happened to her mother, what Jane thought about this… but decided after several abortive attempts that it would be better to keep his first communication short and wait until they were face to face to do some real talking. He did ask if next time Rosie could send him a photo, though. He didn’t even know what colour her hair and eyes were.

  Why hadn’t she emailed him about this? It’d have been so much quicker. Everyone of her age was on email these days and most people his age, too. He included his email address in his reply, just in case.

  He hadn’t told Michael and Joanna what he was doing. Better to present his two children with a fait accompli about both the retirement and the trip to England. They’d grown absurdly protective of him since Helen’s death and wouldn’t like him going off on his own.

  He, on the other hand, was excited about it.

  And if he was too old to climb any tall mountains at fifty-four, he wasn’t too old to climb a few hills, surely?

  CHAPTER 3

  England

  In a neat detached executive residence in Poulton, near Blackpool, Peggy Wilkes got her husband’s breakfast ready while he took his shower. Nervously she adjusted the spoon and dish as she listened for his footsteps on the stairs.

  When Hartley came down, he looked at the table then at her. ‘My coffee?’

  She hurried across the designer kitchen to fill the plunger, suddenly aware that she’d been staring out at the weak April sunshine instead of paying attention to what she was doing. She usually had his coffee waiting for him when he came down.

  ‘I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Peggy. You can’t even prepare breakfast efficiently!’ His voice had that icy tone that always made her want to curl up and die.

  ‘I’ve been feeling a bit tired lately.’

  He sighed. ‘Then go and see the doctor. That’s what he’s there for.’

  ‘I have done and he wanted to give me some anti-depressants. I’ve tried those before. They make me feel worse.’ She pushed her spectacles higher up her nose then added in a rush, ‘I was – um – thinking of going to that new Women’s Wellness Centre instead.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not? It looks—’

  ‘You know what I think of those places. They’re run by man-haters and lesbians. I won’t have my wife going to one.’

  She realized the coffee was ready and got him a cup, but her hand was shaking and she spilled some into the saucer.

  With a muffled exclamation Hartley took it from her and went across to the sink, wiping the saucer and the bottom of the cup carefully before carrying them back to the small table at which they ate breakfast, all other meals being taken properly in the dining room. ‘My eggs?’

  She went to put them on as he shook out the newspaper, boiling the eggs for exactly four minutes and serving them with great care.

  But she’d forgotten the butter and it was still hard from the fridge.

  The annoyance on his face deepened, but he didn’t say a word.

  When he’d gone to work, she collapsed into a chair and made herself a pot of tea. She sat sipping it slowly as she ate her toast, relaxing now that Hartley had left for the day. After clearing up the kitchen, she set off for the shops.

  While she was in the supermarket Peggy caught an unexpected glimpse of herself in a surveillance mirror and stopped in dismay. She looked tired and haggard, far older than her sixty-six years. And yet her hair was only grey at the temples and she was slim enough. She ought not to look like that.

  When she got home, she put the shopping away, then went to stare at herself again in the hall mirror. She wished… she hardly dared even think it, but sometimes she wished quite desperately that she could leave Hartley and live on her own in peace and quiet. Even the tiniest bed-sitter would be paradise compared to her life in this chill residence decorated in white, grey and stainless steel, Hartley’s choice of a colour scheme. The house was far too big for the two of them, but Hartley had insisted on staying here. He didn’t have to clean it, though, and she was tired of cleaning rooms that were never used.

  He’d always been a bit fussy and picky, but after the daughter he adored moved away from Poulton to live near Manchester, he’d become much more critical and exacting, wanted every detail of his life arranged just so. The trouble was, Peggy had never been the sort of person who could organize details to that degree and lately she seemed to upset him more often than please him.

  On the rare occasions when Cheryl came home to visit them, he gave their daughter the royal treatment and insisted on being with her all the time so the poor girl couldn’t relax. Girl! Cheryl was thirty-six now and still unmarried. It had been over a year since she’d stayed for more than a couple of hours. Hartley had mentioned that last night with one of those heavy scowls that always made Peggy shiver with apprehension.

  ‘It’s your fault,’ he’d said. ‘Why should she come home to chaos and mess?’

  Peggy felt upset that he’d say such a thing. It wasn’t true. The house was immaculate by anyone else’s standards. But Cheryl had confided last time that she hated her father’s fussy way of living. That had surprised Peggy, because her daughter didn’t usually confide in her. Cheryl had moved in with a man, it seemed, but hadn’t told her father that either. Peggy didn’t blame her. He’d have thrown a fit.

  She sighed and got herself another pot of tea. She couldn’t see any way to leave Hartley. At sixty-six she had no way of supporting herself and was quite sure she’d take away very little from this marriage if they did split up. The house was in his name, as were all the bank accounts.

  By the time he came home from work that evening, she had tea ready. And for once she’d made a stand – if you could call it a stand.

  He stared at the dining table with its single place setting then at her. ‘Where’s yours?’

  ‘I’m not hungry. And I’m not eating with a man who does nothing but complain. I had a snack earlier. I’m going to watch TV.’

  ‘You stupid bitch!’

  He muttered the words, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing. She served his meal then went into the conservatory and switched on the little TV set there. He didn’t come to join her after he’d eaten. She made no attempt to join him.

  But she could feel his presence. And his anger. He’d been permanently angry since head office had suggested a date for his retirement, a suggestion everyone knew was really a way of getting rid of him.

  She tried to conce
ntrate on the programme, one she liked to watch when he wasn’t in, one he said was designed for morons. But she couldn’t get interested in it tonight, so in the end she picked up a book.

  Only her thoughts kept intruding and she couldn’t make sense of what she was reading.

  Things were going from bad to worse between them lately and she didn’t know what to do about that.

  And when he retired, he’d be there all the time! She didn’t think she could bear that.

  CHAPTER 4

  Australia

  A few days later Brad went along to beard Rodney in his office, putting the next stage of his plan into operation. ‘Are you actually refusing to accept my leave forms and resignation? Because if so, I’m going to call in the union.’

  Rodney gobbled with indignation and lost himself behind a tangle of unfinished sentences. As everyone knew, he’d do anything to avoid union trouble because that wouldn’t look good on his record as a manager.

  Brad plonked another set of completed forms on the desk and left.

  The following morning he found a note in his in-tray from Rodney, insisting that he talk to the Staff Counsellor before doing anything rash.

  He grinned and strolled obediently along to Judy’s office. ‘Are you busy?’

  She looked up. ‘Oh, hi, Brad. No, of course I’m not. Come in and close the door.’

  He sat down, still feeling relaxed, and cocked one eyebrow at her. ‘I presume dear Rodney’s been speaking to you about me?’

  ‘Yes. Are you here to discuss whether you should retire early?’

  ‘No. I’m going to retire early, but he insists he won’t sign the forms till I’ve seen you. I don’t mind what you call our discussion. Hell, I don’t mind if you broadcast this conversation to the whole office because whatever you say, I shan’t change my mind. I’m already out of here mentally.’

  She was fiddling with a pen. ‘I do have one concern, Brad – and it’s quite independent of Rodney. Have you really thought out what you’ll do with yourself afterwards? You know, once the first flush of freedom is over? You’re too young and energetic to potter around the garden all day, surely?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that I’m not into gardening, which was Helen’s thing, I don’t intend to settle down at all. I’m going to England to visit family I’ve not seen for years. Then I’m going to see something of Europe. I want to visit lots of places I’ve only read about.’

  ‘What do your children think about your plans?’

  ‘I haven’t told them yet. They’ll miss me but I suspect what they’ll miss most of all is my babysitting. They’re at that frantically busy yuppie stage of life: raising kids, climbing corporate ladders, going to the gym and giving dinner parties. Their lives are like a treadmill with every half-hour mapped out. Makes me feel exhausted even to listen to them talking about their schedules. Helen and I were never so ferociously active.’

  ‘I know what you mean. My niece is the same.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Well, are you going to support me or not, O wise and noble Counsellor?’

  She leaned back, smiling at him. ‘What if I don’t?’

  ‘I’ll go to my GP and get signed off on sick leave. I’m sure he’ll support me if I get all upset and tell him I can’t cope any more with this job.’

  She got up and came across to hug him and plant an unexpected kiss on his cheek. ‘Of course I’ll support you, you fool. But I’m going to miss you. You’re one of the sanest people in this madhouse.’

  He clasped her nearest hand for a moment between his. ‘Thanks, Judy.’

  ‘I hope we can keep in touch afterwards.’

  The message in her eyes startled him. It looked – why, it looked as if she was offering him encouragement to treat her as a woman, something he’d never seen signs of before. He felt flustered by that unspoken message. He hadn’t looked at another woman since Helen died. They’d had to stop sharing a bed even before that, which his body had protested about regularly. Still did.

  Well, it could just protest. No way was he risking chance encounters with strangers. Nor did he intend to get tied down again by marriage. He was going to do things for himself now, travel, meet people briefly and then move on. He’d had enough of running a beautiful house and putting in the long hours needed to get a showy garden.

  One day, he supposed, he’d come back to Western Australia and settle down, but not for a year or two. It was remotely possible that he might meet another woman he could love, but he didn’t think so. He was good at making friends with women, not so good at making lovers of them.

  * * *

  The day after Brad had spoken to Judy about his plans, Rodney came into his office and scowled down at him. ‘If you’re so determined to act foolishly, I’ll allow you to retire early.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘But I have to say, as your superior officer, that I’m sure you’ll regret it. And what’s more, I don’t think much of someone who’d leave us in the lurch like you’re doing. So don’t ever come to me for a reference.’

  Brad tilted his chair back and grinned. ‘I won’t regret it at all. And I shan’t be going back to work so why would I need a reference? I intend to enjoy the rest of my life.’

  The only response to that was a sour look and – was it possible? – a flicker of envy in Rodney’s pebbly grey eyes.

  For the first time in ages Brad felt energy and excitement coursing through him. He watched through the glass panels as the other man strode across the main work area and into his office. As soon as Rodney’s door was closed, Brad stood up, raised both his fists in the air and let out a whoop of delight.

  That brought his colleagues crowding into his office.

  ‘It’s all arranged,’ he told them. ‘I’m leaving… retiring… escaping.’

  He sent out for a big cake for morning tea. Rodney was conspicuous by his absence from the little gathering but Judy was there, smiling across at him and raising her mug of coffee in a silent toast.

  She waited till everyone else had gone to ask, ‘How soon are you leaving?’

  ‘As soon as I can.’

  ‘Don’t be a stranger afterwards.’

  ‘No. No, I won’t.’ There was a silence and she looked at him with a question in her eyes, at least he thought she did. But he still couldn’t pluck up the courage to ask her out for a date. He was terrified of making a fool of himself. What if he was mistaken? What if she was just being friendly? Worst of all, what if she thought he was sexually harassing her? One had to be very careful these days, especially in the workplace.

  * * *

  Early one evening in the middle of the week Gina’s doorbell rang and she found Lexie grinning at her through the security screen. ‘Surprise!’

  ‘What brings you down to Mandurah?’

  ‘I’ve got this chance to go out to a really super party tonight – and would you believe it, it’s in Mandurah. I tried to ring only you must have been out and you hardly ever switch on your mobile, so I took a chance you’d be able to look after Ben for me.’

  Gina stared at her in shock.

  Lexie twirled round to show off her outfit. ‘It’s this new guy, Jon. He’s fun but he’s into parties not small children. Definitely a case of FOC.’

  ‘FOC?’

  ‘Fear of Commitment.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got a small child.’

  ‘I know. But I’m lucky. I’ve got you as well. Jon knows I’m not looking for another husband, just a bit of fun and sex.’ She glanced at her watch, squeaked in dismay and rushed back to her car to fetch her son and his things. ‘See you in the morning, Mum! I’ll pick Ben up really early – could you have him ready by seven? – so that we can get back to Perth in time to leave him at the child-minding centre – they do hate you to be late.’

  As soon as his mother left, Ben started to cry and wanted to be cuddled. It was one o’clock before Gina got to bed and even then she lay awake for ages, annoyed at herself for letting her daught
ers think they could take advantage of her like this. She’d had to cancel going for a drink at a friend’s house to look after Ben.

  That settled it. She had to work out a way to gain more independence from her family. Last week it had been Mel, who had looked awful and shouldn’t have been going out at all, but had an important office function. Gina was getting very worried about her elder daughter. Not only was Mel unwell, but there was a palpable tension between her and Simon.

  Next morning the alarm woke Gina from a deep sleep at six and even so, it was hard to get Ben ready on time. He wasn’t a morning person, had always woken grumpy and scowling, even as a baby.

  Lexie breezed in just after seven, snatched the piece of toast from her mother’s hand and demolished it in two bites. ‘Why am I always so hungry after a good night’s sex?’

  ‘Do I wish to know that?’

  Lexie grinned. ‘I deserve some fun after my years with the Rat, don’t you think?’ She went across to pick up her son and plant a smacking kiss on his cheek. ‘Don’t turn away, young man. A kiss is a valuable thing.’

  Not Lexie’s kisses, Gina thought. Her younger daughter scattered them on everyone she knew. She was openly affectionate. An uncomplicated sort of person, everyone said. Gina wasn’t so sure. Lexie had hidden depths and the divorce had hit her harder than she let on, even to her family.

  ‘I’ve got Ben’s things ready.’

  ‘You’re a doll, Ma. I don’t suppose you could come up and babysit next Saturday, could you?’

  ‘I don’t think I—’

  ‘Thanks. You’re the best.’

  And Lexie was gone without waiting to hear what she’d been about to say, leaving behind the quiet after the storm – and the mess, too.

  Gina put some more toast on for herself and began to clear up, muttering, ‘If you don’t do something drastic, my girl, you’ll end your days as the family drudge.’ She went to stare at herself in the mirror, wondering if she looked like a soft touch.