The Patterson Girls (42 page)

Charlie shrugged. ‘Maybe in some situations they have a point.'

Lucinda nodded, reached over and pulled her wine glass close. She lifted it up and downed the entire contents in one big gulp.

Charlie looked on, her eyes wide. ‘Is it working? Do you feel better?'

‘I might need another glass.'

Chuckling, Charlie did the honours and poured Lucinda another drink.

She downed that one too. ‘I think I do feel a little better. Thank you.'

‘Hey, I've not done anything except supply the grog.' Charlie took a sip of her own wine. ‘How'd you get here anyway?'

‘I hired a car at the airport.'

‘I'd have come and collected you if you'd called ahead.'

‘I know. Thanks.' Lucinda smiled but it seemed a pale imitation of her usual full-faced grin. ‘I needed the time to think.'

‘Of course. And did it help? Did you come to any conclusions? How long are you planning to stay?'

Lucinda held up her hand, her head starting to spin. ‘Please, one question at a time.'

‘Sorry.' Charlie looked down into her glass.

‘It's okay. Joe and I went away this weekend.' She sighed again and told Charlie all about the beautiful surprise he'd arranged to celebrate her finishing work. About the sports car, the gorgeous resort, the pink champagne and the way he'd made her feel like his princess again on that first night.

‘Sounds so romantic,' Charlie said, her tone wistful. ‘I wish someone would organise something like that for me.'

‘It
was
romantic, but he kept making these little pointed comments about how our lives could be okay without children. He says he wants a family and he says he'll do whatever it takes to get there, but I'm not sure he really cares. He's organised this boys only fishing trip for the next time I'm due to ovulate and when I found out … I lost it.'

Charlie raised an eyebrow and Lucinda could guess what she was thinking.

‘I know. Me?' She knew she had a reputation amongst her sisters as being the level-headed one. Even in the classroom she barely ever raised her voice or lost her patience. ‘Maybe I've been hanging around hot-headed Italians too long.'

Charlie laughed. ‘When you say lost it—'

‘Oh, I didn't throw things or hit him or anything, but I basically voiced my disapproval that he would choose a drunken fishing trip over the chance of getting pregnant. He got angry. I said he didn't care about kids and he said I didn't care about anything else.' Lucinda swallowed and grabbed hold of the glass again as she felt her control slipping.

The thought that she and Joe had separated made her feel as if someone had hacked out her heart.

‘Oh, I don't know. Maybe I
was
overreacting but—' she paused a moment and pursed her lips tightly, trying not to cry ‘—I'm scared. Although he says he doesn't mind if we can't have kids, I'm terrified that he'll want them eventually … with someone else. He's so great with children. You should see him with his nieces and nephews. They all adore him. And I'm scared that the Patterson curse is real and that's why the medics can't find anything wrong with me, with us. It's the only thing that makes sense, which means it's
me
keeping him from having that family.'

‘I'm sure that's not true,' Charlie said, but Lucinda could tell when her sister was lying. Charlie believed in star signs, numerology, astrology—all that hippy stuff—so it wouldn't be a stretch for her to accept a gypsy curse.

‘It doesn't matter. True or not, it's in my head and I can't think about anything else. Joe's right; I am obsessed. I was obsessed with getting pregnant before but since we found out about the curse, I've been unable to focus on anything else. That's why I quit work. I was doing a diabolical job because all my preparation time was spent on researching curses.'

‘And did you find out anything useful?'

She shook her head. ‘Nope. Nada. Apparently the only possible chance of a reversal is going back to the source. But the source of our curse died decades ago.'

‘I wish we'd never found out about it,' Charlie said.

‘It doesn't matter now anyway. I can't get pregnant without a husband and as much as it breaks my heart, Joe's right. Things have changed between us. The curse merely added another layer to what was already a stressful situation. If it wasn't for the stupid curse, maybe when we were told there weren't any medical problems, I'd have rejoiced. Reclaimed hope. Instead, I focused on something we don't even know is true and self-destructed. I refuse to give it another thought.'

Charlie nodded. ‘Good plan. And no matter what you're going through, you're still my wise big sister. I know you and Joe can make this work.'

‘Thanks.' Lucinda forced a weak smile. ‘I hope you're right.'

Chapter Thirty-five

After the late night with Lucinda, Charlie found it hard to get up the next morning. Usually her body clock woke her just before dawn, but today she slept later than usual and almost died when she saw the time on her phone. The first guests would be arriving for breakfast any moment. She threw back the covers and leapt out of bed. There was no time for meditation or a shower, but she did splash water on her face and tie her hair in a high ponytail before yanking on her uniform polo shirt and a pair of jeans.

The greasy smell of bacon assaulted her the moment she stepped inside the motel.
Lucinda
. Charlie could have stayed in bed. Heck, she could have indulged in a long, hot shower. She continued into the dining room where she found her sister bustling around, placing serviette swans on every table.

Swans?
She stopped and raised her eyebrows. Origami napkin creations had never before graced the tables of the Meadow Brook Motel. ‘Did you even go to bed?' she asked.

‘Morning!' Ignoring the question, Lucinda smiled too brightly, making it clear she didn't wish to be reminded of her meltdown last night, or her marriage situation.

Fair enough. At least her presence meant Charlie wouldn't have to deal with the sausages and bacon. ‘Morning,' she replied, making a beeline for the tea and coffee making facilities. ‘Thank God you've already put the kettle on. Do you want a cuppa?'

‘I'd kill for another coffee,' Lucinda said.

Charlie made a strong coffee for her sister and a herbal tea for herself. Usually her tea went cold before she had the chance to drink it, but as Lucinda had everything under control, she managed the whole cup before their first guests arrived.

The sisters fell quickly into the routine they'd established when the two of them had been on breakfast duty over Christmas. Lucinda snuck back into the kitchen to finish the cooking and Charlie greeted the guests as they trickled in. She made small talk, refilled the jugs of orange juice, made sure there was enough milk for the tea and coffee, and then cleared the plates when the mostly grey-haired guests were finished. When the last diner had departed, they washed up together.

‘Thanks for your help this morning,' Lucinda said as they were putting away the last of the cutlery.

Charlie felt a flicker of irritation inside her and was just about to remind Lucinda that she'd been doing this by herself since Christmas, so if anyone should be thanking anyone it was the other way around, when the door burst open and in marched Mrs Sampson.

‘My darling girl, I've just heard. I'm so sorry.' She opened her arms and pulled Lucinda into her embrace before she could protest. When the bar and restaurant had shut last night, Dad had come into the house to find his daughters near trolleyed at the kitchen table. Through slurred voices, they'd given him the short version of why Lucinda was home and it appeared he'd relayed the information. ‘It's lovely to see you, but I wish it were under better circumstances. Is there anything I can do to help?'

Lucinda sniffed and pulled back a little, summoning what was clearly an attempt at a brave face. ‘Thanks, but I think this is something Joe and I need to get through on our own. We just need some time.'

Mrs Sampson smiled back. ‘Well, if ever you need an ear or a shoulder to cry on, I'm here for you.' She glanced behind at Charlie. ‘We all are.'

‘Thanks.' Lucinda bit her lower lip, that one word shaky and full of emotion. It was clear she was barely holding it together and Charlie decided to cut her some slack.

‘Hey, you want to come see what I've been doing in the rooms?' she asked, offering a distraction.

‘That'd be great.' And then Lucinda looked to Mrs Sampson. ‘Or should we do the housekeeping first?'

Mrs Sampson shook her head. ‘Steady on, the rooms are my domain. You two will do me out of a job soon. I'm going to make myself a cup of tea, have a quick glance at the headlines—' she gestured to the newspapers they had delivered to the motel for the guests each morning ‘—and then get started.'

‘Mrs Sampson hasn't been working too hard, has she?' Lucinda asked as they went outside and crossed the tarmac to the row of rooms.

‘She's fine,' Charlie replied. ‘We've got a good routine going on. She, Dad, Rob and I work together. Mrs Sampson mostly handles the housekeeping side of things, I've been doing the breakfasts in the morning, manning the desk till lunchtime and then squeezing in as much redecoration as I can while Dad gets the paperwork done. He and Rob generally run the restaurant and bar in the evening, although Mrs Sampson is often still here then too—she and Dad have been spending every spare minute talking caravanning.'

‘I must admit,' Lucinda said, ‘Dad looks a lot better than he did at Christmas. Is that because you've taken some of his workload or is there really something going on with Mrs Sampson?'

The sisters exchanged a look of slight horror.

‘Well, he gets more sleep now, because he doesn't have to get up at the crack of dawn, but—' Charlie grinned knowingly ‘—I'm thinking it's a combination of both. You wouldn't mind if there
was
something going on between them, would you?'

Lucinda sighed. ‘My love life is such a mess, so if Dad's got one, I'm staying right out of it. Don't you think I've got enough problems of my own?'

Before Charlie could reply, Lucinda added, ‘On second thoughts, don't answer that. Let's see what you've been doing in your spare time.'

Charlie dug the master key out of her pocket and slipped it into the lock. She turned the handle and pushed the door open, holding it so Lucinda could go in ahead of her. ‘Tada!'

‘Holy Mackeroli!' Lucinda exclaimed as she stepped inside.

Basking in her sister's approval, Charlie pulled back the curtains to give her the full effect. ‘It's not finished yet. We still have to put in new carpet and hang the pictures up on the wall but—'

‘This is amazing. The photos on Facebook looked good, but … just … wow. You should be proud of what you've done here. It's so fresh, so inviting.'

Charlie's cheeks flushed at the compliment as a shadow appeared in the open doorway. Even before she turned to look, she sensed Mitch, but the expression on his face shocked her. His usually carefree, boyish grin was nowhere to be seen; in its place were bloodshot eyes and a furrowed brow. He still looked illegally gorgeous, but Charlie's heart leapt to her throat.

‘What's the matter?' Lucinda's praise forgotten, she rushed over to Mitch. ‘Is it your dad? Did something happen?'

He shook his head but the stern expression on his face didn't soften. ‘I need you to come with me, Charlie.'

‘But …?' She looked to Lucinda, torn between leaving her sister alone in her tender emotional state and going with Mitch, who was acting very bizarrely indeed.

As if reading her mind, Lucinda said, ‘I'm fine. Go. I'll find Mrs Sampson and see if she needs any help.'

Lucinda let out a sigh of relief as she watched Charlie climb into Mitch's ute. She hoped nothing too serious was wrong but at the same time she welcomed the few moments to herself. She closed the door of the almost-renovated motel room, grabbed a glass from the bathroom, filled it with water and then guzzled it down, almost as fast as she'd guzzled last night's wine.

She groaned at the pain in her head—caused by a combination of said wine, lack of sleep, this whole awful situation and self-loathing. As unlikely as it seemed, the possibility of her being pregnant had never crossed her mind while she'd been bemoaning her troubles to Charlie, but now the thought of how all that wine might affect an unborn child made her want to throw up. It would be just typical that the moment she let everything go, the moment her life totally fell to pieces, that's when she'd strike it lucky.

Maybe it was good that she hadn't had babies on the brain last night. But then again, maybe Joe was right; maybe she was simply losing the plot.

‘Oh, Joe.' She sighed and put the glass down with a thunk. What had he been doing yesterday while she'd been travelling or last night while she'd been crying? Playing Minecraft on the iPad? Drinking beer with his mates? Watching mindless television?

Or had he felt like her—utterly lost—wondering how the hell their lives had come to this?

How many times during the night had she picked up her phone, this close to calling home? She'd been desperate to hear his voice, but his final words were on constant replay in her head, like some nightmare she couldn't wake up from. The fear that all she'd hear was anger and resentment held her back.

Now, she leant against the bathroom wall and touched her pocket, feeling for her mobile. It felt like the only connection she had to Joe right now, and yet …

Her life was like an impossible logic puzzle. She wanted to call him and apologise—to beg him to let her come home—but could she really tell him what he wanted to hear? She did love him and maybe she'd let her desire for a baby overshadow that, but she couldn't pretend it wasn't important to her. He wanted her to live their lives as if having a family didn't matter, but it
did
matter.