The Family Tree (22 page)

‘You mean Auntie Faye? Why?'

‘Well . . . I was just thinking I might go away for the weekend myself. And I wouldn't mind dropping in and saying hello. Haven't seen her for ages.'

Angie stared at her, clearly puzzled. ‘But you never really liked her.'

‘Actually, I didn't
mind
her.'

‘You called her Attila the Bum. To her face.'

‘At least I wasn't talking behind her back,' said Kate piously. ‘Besides, age gives one perspective. It'd be nice to see her again.'

‘So you're going to go all the way to
Ballarat
to drop in on my aunt?'

‘Of course not. I just thought I might say hi while I was in the area, that's all. But I'd be mainly going to catch up with friends.'

‘Which friends?'

‘Lord, who needs a parent when I've got you!' Kate laughed, then realised what she'd just said and her face stilled. She stared at Angie, trying to think of something that would skate over the moment before it stretched uncomfortably. Then Angie gave a rather artificial laugh, which immediately broke the matter into tiny fragments.

‘Well, I must say you're full of surprises. Shall I give her a ring for you?'

‘That'd be great,' Kate nodded, allowing an infusion of self-satisfaction. Angie cast her one more questioning look but Kate just smiled agreeably. Then, while her cousin started to dial, she picked up the butcher paper, scrunching the outer leaves over, and took it into the kitchen. She pushed the bundle inside the rubbish bin and then wiped her hands with a slapping motion. She could hear the low murmur of Angie's voice, falling silent every few seconds as her aunt replied.

Kate suspected that the woman would be a little astonished that she wanted to pay her a visit. Especially without Angie. Maybe she would be feeling irritated, pursing her mouth up there in Ballarat. If it went ahead, Kate resolved to pick up some flowers, or chocolate, before she arrived. She glanced into the lounge room and Angie gave her a thumbs-up. All systems go.

She lit the gas underneath the kettle and began preparing two mugs. The main point was that Sam wasn't the only one who could just go away for the weekend on a whim, who could just throw a few things in the car and head off into the wild blue yonder. And the beauty of
her
plan was that it was something that probably needed to be done anyway. An information-gathering exercise from one of the few primary sources left. It would be a
working
weekend, not like some.

T
he traffic over the Westgate Bridge was heavy, but it started to clear once Kate drove beyond the new housing estates that had sprung up on that side of the city. She had the airconditioner on already because the temperature overnight hadn't dropped below the mid twenties and was warming up quickly again. To her surprise, according to Angie, Auntie Faye had been delighted that Kate was about to pay her a visit. Even insisting that she come for lunch, and promising something delicious.

On the back seat were an overnight bag, her pillow, laptop and a box of liqueur chocolates. And Kate had chosen her outfit with some care. Conservative enough for lunch with an elderly relative-by-proxy, yet comfortable enough for a relaxed drive. Black strappy sandals, an Aztec-patterned layered skirt and a black silky singlet top. She reached forward and turned the radio on, the gravelly tones of Jimmy Barnes immediately breaking the silence. Kate smiled to herself because the weekend lay before her like a gift, full of potential. Apart from the lunch today, she had nothing at all planned. In the end she hadn't even contacted the friends casually referred to in the conversation with Angie. Infinitely more appealing, at this time, was a lack of direction and a night in a motel somewhere along the way.

Kate took the bypass into Bacchus Marsh and stopped for morning tea at a lovely little café, which had number plates from all over the world plastered to the walls. While she drank her coffee, she amused herself by imagining the steady stream of tourists who stopped here for sustenance, only to have their number-plates stolen by the unscrupulous hosts. Perhaps there was even a
Psycho
-style motel out the back. She paid for her coffee and returned to her car, grinning at herself as she automatically checked to ensure her own number plate was still intact. A little over an hour later, Kate hit the outskirts of Ballarat and pulled over to check the map that Angie had drawn. Twenty minutes after that, she reached her destination.

It was a fairly small house of white clinker brick, set back from the road and with louvre shutters adorning each of the windows. Much of the front yard was concreted and what little lawn left was mown to within an inch of its life, with far more grey patches than green. Roses of every size and colour, with an assortment of garden gnomes, ringed the lawn area and edged the driveway in a curve from road to house. An extremely ugly garden gnome, which looked rather like the one Caleb had given her for Christmas, sat by the front door. Kate knocked and stood back to wait.

‘Coming!' The voice was accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps and then the door was opened wide. ‘Kate, honey!
What
a pleasure!'

Kate smiled at the elderly woman who was beaming at her with
obvious delight. She looked very much as Kate had remembered, a large, big-boned woman with what her uncle had once rather rudely referred to as ‘Neanderthal hips'. Facially wise, there was a vague resemblance to Angie. Similar brown eyes, wide mouth and round face. But her aunt's features had long since been wreathed with deeply bedded wrinkles and her hair was now short and snowy-white.

‘Don't just stand there! Come in!' She reached forward and grasped Kate by the arm, assisting her somewhat forcefully over the threshold and then slamming the door behind her. ‘Now then, let me have a look at you. Aren't you maturing nicely then!'

‘Thank you,' replied Kate, keeping her smile in place. She wondered whether she should return the dubious compliment.

‘I suppose you're wondering what to call me, huh? But why don't we just stick with Auntie Faye. That's what you always called me when you were little. Not so little now, huh?'

‘No, unfortunately.'

Auntie Faye immediately frowned, letting go of Kate's arm at last. ‘Don't tell me you're one of those ones who gets all hung up about their size? Don't be a fool, honey. If you ask me, a little bit of padding never did any harm. Be proud of your curves and to hell with anyone else.'

Kate smoothed her singlet self-consciously. ‘Um, okay. Thank you.'

‘Now, follow me!' Auntie Faye immediately strode away into a neat, compact lounge room and went straight up to a set of French doors at the side. These were flung open to reveal a sunroom, each wall lined with white weatherboard up to waist height and then with louvred-glass windows to the ceiling. More multihued roses, this time in pots, took up most of the space except for the very centre, where a table had been set for lunch. With the expanse of glass the room was like a sauna. Perfect for a hothouse, not so great for anything else.

‘Lovely roses,' said Kate politely.

‘Yes, aren't they? One of my hobbies. And I often eat out here, it's so lovely and cosy. Snug. Now make yourself comfortable and I'll be back in a bit with our lunch.'

As her host left the room, Kate got the chocolates she had bought out
of her handbag and then sat down on one of the old-fashioned, thickly padded kitchen chairs. She saw that Auntie Faye had gone to some effort, with a single apricot rose in a crystal vase in the centre of the tablecloth and silver cutlery either side of what looked like Royal Albert tableware. Kate wiped her forehead and then stared down at her damp fingers, sending a brief plea skyward that the meal would not be a hot one.

At that moment, Auntie Faye came bustling in, bearing a tray with two bowls of steaming soup and a cane basket full of bread. She placed it on the table with a flourish. ‘Here we go, honey. Just the thing after a long drive.'

‘Oh, excellent,' said Kate weakly, the heat of the soup wafting up as it was placed before her. She remembered the box of chocolates on her lap and lifted them, her thumb immediately pressing down on one corner. ‘Um, for you. Chocolates.'

‘You shouldn't have!' Auntie Faye took the box gingerly. ‘But thank you anyway. Perhaps I'd better put them in the fridge.'

‘Good idea.'

Auntie Faye was back within seconds, closing the French doors behind her. Kate shook out a white napkin and laid it on her lap, staring down at the soup. It was a transparent dull-yellow colour, disturbingly reminiscent of urine, with small glutinous chunks of something pink floating on the surface.

‘Well then, dig in, honey! Enjoy!'

Kate mustered up a faint smile and obediently dug in. While the soup didn't taste quite as bad as it looked, it didn't taste all that good either. After about four mouthfuls, Kate found herself glad that Angie
didn't
cook, because there was always a chance this sort of culinary ability was genetic. She laid her spoon down and sighed with exaggerated contentment. ‘Lovely, thanks! Did you make it yourself?'

‘Certainly did,' replied Auntie Faye, tipping her bowl forward and scooping up the last of her own soup. ‘Family recipe.'

‘Ah.'

‘If you were going straight home, I'd give you some to take back with you. But Angie says you're going on to stay with friends?'

‘That's right,' said Kate quickly. ‘Otherwise . . .'

‘Never mind, I'll send some down with her next time she comes up.' Auntie Faye stood up and collected the bowls. ‘Ready for the second course?'

‘Second course?'

‘Coming right up!'

Kate watched the older woman leave the room again and then tucked her hair behind her ears and used her napkin to mop her forehead. It was very hot in the sunroom, and very humid. A throbbing had started at her temples, emitting vibrations that echoed around the eye sockets. She looked around, almost desperate enough to drink the water out of a watering can if she spotted one, but there was nothing except ridiculously healthy roses and a box of snail pellets in the corner. She stared at the warning signs plastered across the box, and wondered how many pellets would put her out of her misery.

Auntie Faye came back into the sunroom, carrying the tray again. She placed it down on the side of the table and to her immense relief Kate saw two long glasses full of iced water. One was immediately passed over, followed by a plate of meatloaf and vegetables. ‘Here we go then. Eat up before it goes cold!'

Kate smiled her thanks and then forced herself not to act too eager as she drank some water, the iciness providing an almost painful bliss. Within seconds, the throbbing in her head lessened to a dull resonance that felt heavy, but bearable.

‘So Angie tells me you're staying with her while you're writing a book?'

Kate picked up her cutlery. ‘Well, yes. That is, I'm trying to anyway.'

‘I'm sure you'll succeed. You always were a determined little bugger.' Auntie Faye paused for a moment. ‘And I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to your father's funeral last year. I wasn't well myself at the time.'

‘Yes, Angie told me, and we got the flowers. Hope you're much better now?'

‘Of course,' replied Auntie Faye airily. ‘Food poisoning, you know.'

Kate stared at her meatloaf.

‘Just one of those things.' Auntie Faye deftly sliced her broccoli into bite-sized pieces. ‘Unfortunate timing though.'

‘Oh, well. It happens.' Kate surreptitiously pushed her meatloaf to one side and began eating the mashed potato instead.

‘Dreadful business. I was shocked.'

Kate knew that she wasn't talking about the food poisoning, and she also knew that she needed to head this conversation off. ‘This is lovely potato, Auntie Faye. Unusual taste though. Is it another family recipe?'

‘Heavens, no. I'll tell you a secret, it's just powdered stuff with condensed milk. That's the trick.'

‘I'll have to remember,' said Kate, nodding.

‘I always liked your father. Lovely man. Made me so angry that it had to come to that.' Auntie Faye glared down at her plate. ‘Should be a law against it.'

‘There is,' said Kate expressionlessly. ‘That's the point.'

‘You know what I mean.' Auntie Faye looked at her searchingly. ‘So how are you holding up then, honey?'

‘I'm fine. Absolutely fine.'

‘Did you know . . . beforehand?'

‘Oh, yes.' Kate knew exactly what she meant. She kept her voice light, conversational. ‘Well, I didn't know that particular
day
. But he never made a secret of it, from the time he was diagnosed. It was only a matter of time. Before things got too bad. I suppose Angie told you all that. Everyone knew.' Kate paused in an effort to stem the flow of words. She finished lamely: ‘It was his choice, after all.'

‘Yes, of course.' Auntie Faye shook her head. ‘But still . . .'

‘So what sort of things do you get up to? I mean hobbies and all that.'