The Christmas Café (19 page)

‘One of the churchwardens came up behind me and broke the spell; she was a sweet lady, rushing to introduce us. As the minister’s daughter I had a little bit of status – things like that mattered back then. “Miss Gerraty, this is Dr John W. Brodie,” she said, emphasising the word “doctor”, giving him his full name, a bit impressed. Then she rushed off again. But his name was a small detail to me. I was already under his spell and he under mine.’

‘Did you fall in love?’ Flora whispered, totally enthralled.

Bea nodded. ‘Yes, we did. Well, I was only eighteen. I say “only” now, but at the time I thought I was a woman of the world. Of course I wasn’t. I thought it was enough that I had been on a plane, travelled to Australia from England and attended a few socials. But I wasn’t worldly at all. Nothing like the eighteen-year-olds of today. I couldn’t be, I hadn’t done anything or seen anything and I had no idea what was in store for me – which, with hindsight, was a good thing.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘My family was very traditional, strict. Even at eighteen I wasn’t allowed out with boys by myself – goodness, perish the thought! And we were miles from all the excitement of big-city life. We lived on the coast next to the church. My mother was terribly house-proud and worried constantly about what my dad would think. I always thought her life was rather boring and with the glorious gift of hindsight, I can say that I might have been right!’

Bea straightened. ‘I don’t want to go into the details, but suffice to say, I had a lot of fun with... John.’ Bea paused. It still felt strange saying his name out loud. ‘He was a visiting physician, just graduated from medical school, and we had three months together – three months that I can only describe as absolutely magical.’ She beamed at the memory.

‘My granddad’s name was John,’ Flora practised, before blinking up at Bea. Both of them felt a stab of disloyalty about her pappy.

‘Yes. Yes, it was.’

‘Why didn’t you stay together if you loved each other?’ Flora buttered a piece of bread and popped it into her mouth.

‘John’s time at Byron Bay came to an end. We spent our last night together on the beach, in secret, of course. Before I knew it, dawn was breaking and that was when...’ She paused.

‘When what?’ Flora was rapt; she swallowed the lump of bread.

‘When he told me that... that he was married and had two small children.’ She lowered her eyes.

‘He was married to someone else! No way!’ Flora shrieked, shocked. This was not quite the fairy-tale twist she was expecting

Bea raised her palms and nodded. ‘He was five years older than me, still young, but old enough to have had a bit of a life. Even if it was a life he didn’t choose. He’d had a fling with another student while he was at med school, she fell pregnant, and that’s how he ended up with twin babies. He’d done the honourable thing, got married and all that, even though it didn’t sound like a match made in heaven. It was what you did back then, there was a sense of duty and happiness or anything as frivolous as true love was kind of secondary.’

‘I’m glad I wasn’t born then, it doesn’t sound very good.’ Flora imagined being paired off with someone who wasn’t her first choice. ‘He sounds sneaky, making you fall in love with him and all the time his wife was at home, waiting for him.’

‘No, it wasn’t like that at all, Flora. I know it’s hard for you to understand – it was hard for me to understand!’ She wrapped her arms around her trunk, soothing away the quake that was still almost as raw as on the day he’d told her. ‘He wasn’t looking to fall in love with someone – he hadn’t planned it, quite the opposite. He was determined to make the best of it with his wife. But when he and I met that night on the boat it was like we were meant to be together. We both felt it, right from the first moment. He was as surprised by the whole thing as I was. And he was quite broken; ashamed and torn. A good, good man who suffered because of a rotten twist of fate when he was still quite young. He felt the weight of his mistakes. He was so upset that night on the beach and he cried and cried.’
He cried because I begged him to leave his family, asked him to leave his children. I told him they were too little to remember him. I begged...

‘Oh, poor John!’ Flora said.

Bea smiled at her rapid change of heart. It was also quite wonderful to hear her granddaughter use the name that was always there on the tip of her own tongue but never spoken. ‘Yes, poor John. I knew then and I know now that if he hadn’t been such an honourable man he would have stayed with me. He loved me, I’ve never doubted that, but he had a strong sense of duty towards his wife and kids. He said that going home was like settling for second best now that he knew it was possible to find true love. So he left. I was distraught. Oh, Flora, I grieved, ached for him...’ She rubbed her arms as if to rid her body of a chill that was spreading through her.

‘And then you found out you were having my dad?’

‘Yes,’ Bea whispered. ‘My parents went crazy when they found out. Beyond crazy.’

‘I know how that feels!’ Flora sighed.

‘Oh, trust me, Flora, my parents’ crazy makes Wyatt and Sarah’s outburst seem like praise! It was terrible, a truly horrible time. I never told them it was John’s. But being unmarried and “with child”, as they called it, was a source of great shame in those days, especially for a minister’s daughter. I can only imagine how bizarre that sounds, but it was. It ruined people’s lives. My mother wasn’t really interested in how it was affecting me or how it might affect my future, it was all about keeping it a secret, that was the main effort.’

‘But you were having a baby! You’d think she’d have been so happy to be becoming a granny! My mum says she can’t wait for that day, she says it will be the best time in her life and she’s going to decorate a room for it and all sorts.’

Bea smiled up at the ornate ceiling, glad that Sarah felt that way. ‘No, it wasn’t quite like that. In her eyes I had done something unforgivable, committed a sin. She was emotionally constipated at the best of times and was very cold about my pregnancy, made it all feel dirty, shameful. There was no room for tears or hysterics; it was simply something that had to be dealt with. I was lucky; I was stronger than most, quite resilient, and actually my misguided belief that I was a worldly girl-about-town gave me the mettle to plough on, even though I didn’t always feel like it.’

‘So that was when you came to Sydney? I mean went to Sydney?’ It was easy to temporarily forget that they had travelled to the other side of the world.

‘Yes. I took rooms in a horrible place in Kings Cross and struggled to make ends meet. Oh, Flora, it was awful. I don’t know how I got through it really. I was often hungry. Afraid to sleep in case the rats got into the cot or the cockroaches that dropped from the ceiling landed on him. It was a dark time.’ She shivered. ‘And that was how we lived until I met Pappy!’ Her face brightened.

‘Why have you never spoken to my dad about it?’

Bea considered how to respond to her granddaughter. ‘I guess because it never really crops up and the longer we go without speaking about it, the harder it is to start.’

Flora drew a sharp breath and her lower lip wobbled.

Bea ran her hand over her brow as she opened her rucksack and fished for a tissue.

‘That’s just so sad!’ Flora sniffed. ‘And I never realised. I hate to think of you and my dad living like that. I love you both so much and I can’t imagine being kept from someone you love.’ She scrunched the tissue. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.’

‘Don’t be sorry for your tears, darling. It is sad. There’s no way that you can imagine it because the world is a very different place now, thank goodness. And, you know, I wasn’t so unlucky compared to some. Other girls in my situation often used to have to give away their babies, so all that heartache was for nothing.’

‘At least you got to keep Dad,’ Flora almost whispered.

Bea nodded and dabbed at her eye with the corner of a Kleenex. ‘Yes. Yes, I did. And I am thankful for that every day. And for you.’ She reached out and took her granddaughter’s young hand inside her own.

Replete but weary, Flora linked her arm with Bea’s as they stepped out of the Café Royal and into the dark evening. ‘Oh, wow! It’s so—’

‘Don’t say it!’ Bea waved a hand in front of Flora’s face. ‘We can’t keep complaining about the weather. It is what it is and us moaning about it will not make it any warmer. As my grandma used to say, there’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes. A few more layers and some sturdy boots and we’ll be right.’

Flora nodded, trying not to let her chattering teeth give her away. Bea kissed her granddaughter on the back of the hand and squeezed her arm even tighter as she fell into step beside her. She loved the new closeness that she now shared with her.

‘I’m having a lovely time, Bea.’

‘Me too, darling.’

Their hotel room was warm and welcoming. The lamps had been turned on and the pristine white Egyptian cotton sheets and gold silk counterpane had been turned down to reveal the plumped, inviting feather pillows.

‘I could get used to this.’ Bea laughed. The elaborate decor, tartan carpet, patterned wallpaper and ornate lamps would have seemed way too fussy in her own home, but there, in that unique setting, it was quite charming.

While Bea sat at the little dressing table between the windows and removed all traces of make-up, Flora cleaned her teeth in the bathroom. She spat into the sink and ran the tap, then wound her hair into a fat plait. ‘Where did he live, this Dr John W. Brodie?’ she shouted into the mirror, as though that would somehow help her words bounce out to her grandma in the bedroom.

Bea turned on the stool and faced her granddaughter. ‘Where did he live?’

‘Yes, when he left you, where was he heading back to? Where were his wife and kids?’

There was the faintest pause. Then Bea spoke with only a slight quaver to her voice. ‘Edinburgh. He lived in Edinburgh.’

Bea and Flora sat at their beautifully set breakfast table in the brasserie of The Balmoral. Their tea was served in an elegant silver pot and the cutlery sparkled under the impressive chandeliers.

‘This is nice.’ Bea winked at her granddaughter. ‘Don’t think it’d go down too well with the Reservoir Street Kitchen customers, though. They prefer the more rustic decor. Or my “bits of junk”, as Mr Giraldi calls them. I can just see him in here, bashing his cane to get the best table. Don’t think it’d cut much ice.’ The two chuckled.

‘Do think they’ve got Choco Pillows?’ Flora wondered as she surveyed the pristine menu card.

‘Doubt it, but you’ve made a sensible choice with eggs and croissants. It’s good to start the day with something warm, keep that chill at bay.’ Her mind turned to breakfast service at the Reservoir Street Kitchen. ‘I wonder how Kim and Tait are getting on.’ She voiced her thoughts out loud. ‘She is totally in love with him, you know.’

‘What?’ Flora squealed. ‘Kim and Tait? No way! That’s so exciting! Do you think they’ll get married? Oh, I hope they do. He’s so lucky, she is so out of his league, and she plays an instrument in an orchestra, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes, the cello.’ Bea spoke with pride, as though talking about her own daughter. In a sense they were like her children; she certainly loved them like her own.

‘That’s awesome. I love Kim. I want to be like her when I’m older. She’s got a nice apartment and everything.’ Flora sipped her fresh orange juice and looked across the dining room towards the kitchen: the scrambled eggs she had decided on couldn’t come fast enough.

Bea smiled. If only Kim could hear them. ‘She has, but no hot tub in her bedroom and as far as I know, no 5 Seconds of Summer posters over all the walls instead of wallpaper! Oh, and no dog.’

Flora laughed, happy that her gran had remembered. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night.’

Bea nodded, sipping her coffee.

‘And I was wondering, what are we going to do about Dr Brodie?’

‘Sorry to interrupt, but are you wanting a doctor?’ Neither had noticed the waitress clearing the table behind them.

Bea pivoted round, feeling her neck turn crimson. ‘Oh, no! But thank you.’ She smiled, turning back to Flora. ‘We are not going to do
anything
,’ she said firmly.

‘Sorry!’ Flora mouthed before leaning in conspiratorially and saying, in no more than a whisper, ‘I wonder if he’s still alive. I’ve been thinking about him all night.’

Me too...
Bea nodded and swallowed; she had of course considered this over the years. ‘Who knows? He’d only be fifty-eight, but anything could have happened. He might not even live here any more. People do move. As I said, we shan’t do anything. It was a long, long time ago.’

‘Have you not spoken to him since the morning you waved him off from the beach?’ Flora shook her head as if the image was too sad to contemplate.

‘No,’ Bea admitted.

‘God, that’s awful.’

‘Although I did keep his scarf. It was dark green silk and I had it made into a little pillow.’

‘Your little pillow? I know the one!’

‘I like to have it close. I place it under my cheek at night. Ridiculous really.’ She coloured at the admission, which she’d never shared before.

Flora jutted her chin out. ‘It’s not ridiculous. I have one of Marcus’ T-shirts. It smells of him and I put it on when I feel like it. I haven’t told Lori or Katie that I’ve got it. I found it by the goal after he’d been playing soccer and I put it in my bag to give him, but then just kind of didn’t. It’s not stealing, not really.’

Both considered the bag full of make-up that had found its way under her bed. Flora felt her cheeks blush and her heart thump.

Bea shrugged. ‘I know very little about him, actually. Apart from that he was a physician, was married to Margaret and had a girl and a boy, Moira and Xander. Thing is, as I say, even if he is still alive, he might not still live in Edinburgh; he could have gone anywhere in the world. I just wanted to see where he came from. I’ve always wanted to. I’m happy to be here – that’s enough for me. He told me such beautiful stories about life in Auld Reekie!’