Secrets and Lies (17 page)

‘All right, Es?’ Leo shouted from behind her and she waved her hand.

After a while they entered an expanse of cleared land.

She had not expected that they’d drop in on the family sheep station for lunch. A truck headed out from the homestead with two dogs chasing after it. A man who looked a lot like Leo, but who was shorter and slightly older, hopped out, just when Leo was lifting her down from the plane.

The two men exchanged big smiles, punched each other on the shoulder, and then had a short, friendly wrestling match. Boys never grew up, she thought, smiling to herself as she remembered Adam and Luke often doing the same thing.

‘Meet Nurse Esmé Carr. Es, this is my brother, Alex.’

Alex folded her hands between his, which were calloused. ‘Where did you find such an exquisite creature?’

‘At the mine.’ Leo gazed down at her, not bothering to hide the admiration in his expression. ‘She’s something special, isn’t she?’

‘Yours?’

‘Yes . . . but she hasn’t realized it yet.’

Esmé couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Leo Thornton, behave yourself.’

The dogs arrived, tongues hanging out and milling around them with flaying tails and yips and yaps as they competed for a pat. There was a chaotic but friendly feel to the scene, a bit like when Denton arrived home from work and became the centre of attention of his wife and children, as if they were stars revolving about his moon.

The three of them squeezed into the cabin of the truck and with the dogs on the tray, headed back to the homestead.

There, she was introduced to Gwen and Bob Thornton, the parents of the brothers. Esmé was eyed with a certain amount of friendly interest by the couple, and questioned about her background.

Nevertheless, it was a pleasant two hours, and as they were about to depart for Melbourne, Gwen whispered, ‘Leo’s never brought a lady friend to meet us before. I despair of either of our sons getting married and providing us with grandchildren.’

Esmé didn’t know quite what to say, except, ‘My brother met Leo at medical school in England and they became good friends.’ And in case they had matchmaking on their minds, she added, ‘We’re just acquaintances.’

When Leo took her back to the ship he gazed down at her. ‘Will you be my girl, Es?’

It was tempting because she liked him a lot.

But it wouldn’t be fair to him. ‘Leo, I don’t think it’s a good idea when you live in Australia and I’m in England. Besides, your mother has practically proposed to me on your behalf already.’

He chuckled. ‘Yeah, well, I reckon she must’ve liked you as much as I do. We could work the distance thing. One of us would have to move. I’m willing. Right . . . what’s your next excuse.’

‘I’m still getting over a broken engagement.’

‘Good . . . I’m glad you’re getting over it because there will be room for me in your life, now.’ He gazed down at her, smiling. ‘Think about it.’

He was incorrigible. He was delicious. She was about to laugh when he kissed her. It was a fiery little scorcher of a kiss . . . every bit as delectable as she remembered, and leaving all her bits glowing. It didn’t take much of his flame to light a bonfire under her. Lord . . . she hadn’t expected this, not so soon after Liam. In fact it was different altogether than what she’d felt towards Liam.

‘Now, what do you think?’ he said.

‘I think you’d better not kiss me again, Leo Thornton. I don’t want any complications.’

‘There’s nothing complicated about love. Me . . . Leo the jungle boy. You, Essy the tabby cat.’ He beat at his chest, and when he was about to yodel she kissed him to put a stop to it and it faded off into an ecstatic growl.

She fled up the gangplank, past the grinning officer on watch. Leo waved and went dancing off, executing a sideways heel click in the air without mishap.

He turned and blew a kiss towards the ship, shouting, ‘I’ll see you in ten weeks, my lovely.’

Meggie couldn’t understand why she felt so guilty, when Foxglove House belonged to her.

A year had flown past since her grandfather had handed her the key. She’d got to know him well in the time they’d spent together, and enjoyed his company as well as the secret they shared.

It was hard to be not quite grown-up. Her breasts had grown large enough to be noticeable. One day her liberty bodices disappeared, and two white cotton brassieres occupied the space instead. She’d also found a packet of sanitary napkins with a belt folded up on top, to attach them to. ‘When will I need these, and why does this unpleasant thing have to happen?’ she asked her mother.

‘It would be best if you asked your Auntie Es to explain when she next comes home. She’s a nurse.’

Esmé had laughed at that. ‘Ah . . . so your mother has left it to me to deliver the coming-of-age message. Do you want the detailed version complete with ovarian function, or the standard version with hygiene included?’

‘I’d prefer to know everything, as long as it’s not too
medical.
My friend Susan has told me something about how babies are made . . . and it sounds so ridiculous that I don’t know whether to believe her or not. It’s embarrassing, and all the girls at school snigger about it.’

Sex, Esmé imagined. What did she know about it? Her own experience was nil, though her emotions were telling her it was better if love was involved. She supposed she could manage the anatomical. ‘Fetch your coat then, we’ll go for a walk. Shadow will come with us, no doubt.’ And a little later . . . ‘It’s like this, Meggie Moo . . .’

Meggie had never felt so embarrassed in her life. Becoming a woman seemed a rather untidy transition. ‘It sounds rather a bore,’ she said, when her aunt finished, pretending indifference.

‘Oh, you learn to cope with it . . . you have to, I’m afraid.’

She asked Aunt Es the question she was burning to know the answer to. ‘How do babies get inside a woman? Susan said you have to be married first. Did my mother do it with Richard Sangster.’

‘It’s quite possible to have a baby before you’re married. Morally, it’s not the done thing because people will no longer respect you. So, yes, being married is a rather sensible idea if one wants a baby. I do think it would be better if we didn’t talk about the personal relationships of your mother.’

‘She hardly ever talks about him to me, and there are things I want to know. Mother always brushes me off. I mean . . . I’m Richard Sangster’s daughter, and nearly everyone in the house knew him, and they know more about him than I do.’

Her aunt’s eyes widened at that. ‘At your age one tends to see everything from the viewpoint of only how it affects you. Believe me, things tend to fall together as you get older.’

‘You mean I’m self-centred.’

‘Not exactly, but girls of your age have a tendency to dramatize things and read more into them than there is. Your mother loved Richard Sangster. We all did. It was sad that he died without him getting to know you, or you to know him. But your mother has married again and has Dr Denton and the boys to care for, as well. She’s had to put the past behind her and move on, for their sakes.’

‘Do I sound horribly selfish?’

‘No, you’re fast becoming a woman, and I’m sure your mother will tell you what you need to know regarding your place in the family when she’s good and ready. It’s not for me to interfere.’

It wasn’t until they reached home that Meggie realized that her aunt hadn’t given her the information she’d wanted. But then, her aunt wasn’t married, so perhaps she didn’t know much about the act of procreation, either.

‘We could always ask the vicar,’ she suggested to Susan, the thought of which kept them laughing for the rest of the week.

The subject became a bit of a passion with them. Meggie and Susan enjoyed endless whispered conversations about what took place between men and women, and they giggled a lot, especially when Susan found some postcards of almost naked women in her brother’s coat pocket and they tried out the poses, though with their clothes intact.

It was a pity her mother didn’t recognize the onset of her womanly attributes as a signal that she’d grown up, Meggie thought, because she was still treated as if she were a child, despite the brassieres.

And even though she’d passed one hurdle it seemed to Meggie that there was another. She wouldn’t be regarded as a proper woman until she’d married, and had gone through the experience of losing her virginity. As if she would do such a thing after seeing that diagram of a naked man and woman together. It all seemed so ridiculous, and she wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if it happened to her. Why couldn’t women just lay eggs and go about their business until they hatched?

But what if she never married, like poor Aunty Es, who although very pretty, must be at least twenty-four?

She started looking at boys in a different way, and found some grown men to be a little uncomfortable with their furtive glances . . . even her grandfather, who often patted her on the knee or on the bottom, and put his arms around her shoulders sometimes, as if he wanted to kiss her. She instinctively shrank away from any attempt at grandfatherly affection from him. Could she dare ask her mother the truth about doing It?

No . . . her mother was bound to think she was precocious. She’d give her that look, the one that said she was wondering what on earth she’d given birth to. Then she’d send her scurrying to do some task rather than give her an answer.

Meggie did the next best thing. She waited until she was alone in the house, and then fetched one of the medical books down from the bookcase. There were diagrams, and her eyes widened. She’d seen her brothers in the bath when they were babies, of course, and they had floppy little appendages to indicate they were male . . . but heavens! This drawing wasn’t in miniature, but man-sized. And she hadn’t known that they could point upwards like that. It was exactly how Susan had told her. Meggie knew, of course, that men and women were different, but hadn’t known why . . . now she did. How utterly hilarious!

Meggie couldn’t look at either her stepfather or her mother for a while after the talk without having to stifle the urge to giggle. They must have done it at least three times to produce the boys, and her mother had done it once with Richard Sangster as well.

Armed with this knowledge, she felt more grown-up and important, and, when her menstrual period finally arrived, rather dignified, so she walked rather than ran, and kept her knees together in a ladylike manner when she was seated.

On one occasion she affected the mannerisms of the vicar’s wife when the woman came for tea. Her mother had sent her to fetch the cake, and then followed her out.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Meggie?’

‘I’m practising to be a lady for when I grow up. Mrs Avery is awfully pretty and smart, isn’t she? They’re nicer than the last vicar and his wife. What a pity her front teeth are a bit crooked, though. I’m glad mine are even.’

Her mother bit down on her lip as though she wanted to laugh. ‘If she saw you crooking your little finger like that she’d be horribly embarrassed, and so would I.’ Her mother’s sigh was one of pure exasperation. ‘Honestly, Meggie . . . I could shake you. I sometimes wonder what you’ll do for a living when you grow-up.’

‘Oh . . . I might become an actress, like Rosemary Mortimer. Being a family member, she might invite me to Hollywood and I’ll have four husbands, fur coat, lots of glittery diamond rings to flash, and I’ll become the famous star of the silver screen. I’ll call myself Eloise Elliot. It’s a much better name for a film star than Margaret, since practically every woman in the world is called that.’ She pouted her lips and fluttered her eyelashes at her mother.

Her mother looked stunned for a moment, then said quietly, ‘Who told you about Rosemary Mortimer?’

Oops!
Meggie scrambled for a credible answer, and then decided to brave it out. ‘Oh . . . everyone in the district seems to know about her. Wasn’t her name Sangster, and wasn’t she married to—’

‘Rosemary Mortimer was only a Sangster by marriage.’

Meggie refused to be put off. ‘To Major Henry, my Sangster grandfather,’ she finished. There, it was out, and the subject now dangled like the sword of Damocles over her head. She hoped the horse’s hair it was suspended from was a strong one, because now she’d named the unnamed she was attacked by a sense of overwhelming doom. Her brain seemed to shrivel in the long, cool assessment her outspokenness attracted. Her mother’s eyes were glazed over and almost icy. Under it lurked a sense of vulnerability, as though Meggie had mortally wounded her.

Voice even, though in a tightly controlled sort of way, her mother said, ‘Enough! Bring that cake in, please. After that you may make your excuses to Mrs Avery. No doubt you can think of an excuse that’s convincing. Then you can go off and practise being a lady elsewhere . . . preferably in your room.’

How cold she sounded. Meggie mentally flinched, and, overcome by guilt, whispered, ‘Sorry, Mother.’

‘I’ll talk to you later.’ Her mother then turned and walked away, and Meggie decided that being ignored was worse than a lecture, because waiting for the latter was fraught with tension.

But that aside . . . what was it about Major Henry that brought such a response from her mother? What had he done? Perhaps she would ask him.

Feeling penned inside her natural need to rebel, she ignored her mother’s suggestion to retire to her room, pulled on her coat and the cheerful red gloves and scarf Aunt Esmé had knitted for her, and then went out into the cold November afternoon.

Dr Andrew Elliot’s car was parked outside Nutting Cottage. She hoped her grandfather wasn’t sick. But no . . . old Dr Elliot often called in on him, the major had told her. So did her father, and the district nurse, and the lady who came to clean and do his shopping. But rarely in the afternoon, so it would be best if she visited then.

She went past, deciding to look in on him on the way home, and a little while later she let herself into Foxglove House. Usually, she enjoyed the solitude of the place, but today she was unsettled and upset by the argument with her mother . . . and all over a stupid crooked finger. It seemed that she could never do anything right. Soon she wouldn’t be allowed to breathe without a lecture.