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CHAPTER 34

Meredith had moved into Alex’s house shortly after the episode at Inverness. This solution, neatly answering two needs – Alex’s for greater support, Meredith’s for a new home now that hers had been sold – had been arrived at quickly. Deborah wasn’t consulted. Rose gathered that the worst of this angry period of shunning Deborah was over, and she was now being included in the extended family’s life again, and also that there’d been a fundamental shift. Deb’s opinions no longer carried more weight than anyone else’s.

Incredibly, Alex had suffered no ill-effects from his adventure, apart from sore knees, and Bernadette’s massage and acupuncture treatments soon fixed that. A couple of times he talked about having gone back to the old place, and how the orchard needed attention. Maybe he’d get back there sometime
, give ’em a hand with the pruning, you know
. But then he’d allow that he had his work cut out keeping up with his own garden.

The day after meeting Robert and his family, Rose went to see Meredith. Robert had arranged to take Alex for a massage and lunch afterward, giving Meredith some time alone with her mother. Then
a minor complication, when Jacinta asked if she could spend the day with Laurence and his friends, and it was decided that Roland would deliver Rose to the house on their way. There were delays setting out, with missing swimsuits and misplaced car keys. Again –
darn it!
– Rose felt flustered and jumpy.

Meredith greeted them all effusively, with lots of hugs and kisses and exclamations at Jacinta’s beauty. Jacinta blushed and laughed; she was curious and rather excited to meet Laurence’s mother, but she and Roland were running a bit late and couldn’t stay long. Rose took advantage of Meredith’s preoccupation to examine her, trying to find some point of recognition. It was much harder to locate than it had been with Robert. Of course, Meredith had been the youngest, only six when Rose last saw her. There was no sign of that plump-cheeked child in this small, fast-moving woman with the soft brown hair heavily laced with grey, and her thin worker’s hands. In the hazel eyes, though, her large expressive hazel eyes, perhaps…

Once the others had gone on, Meredith, still bubbling, started showing her mother around the house.

‘Well, it’s only two bedrooms as you can see – this is Daddy’s room, gosh, he’s had those same old prints up forever but he loves them – so it would’ve been too small for three of us but it’s all worked out okay, Laurence had a standing invite at his friend Tristan’s house, Tris was doing his VCE, too, you see, and his parents have been through it all before so that was actually really good. But we told you all that, Rose, didn’t we? So, this is
my
room… I made those curtains just a couple of weeks ago, the old ones had really had it, though Daddy insists that he wants the ones in his room to stay. That lilac tree outside the window was
gorgeous
just a while ago, oh, the smell: divine! But of course it’s finished flowering now.’

Rose was nodding and smiling, wondering if Meredith would ever draw breath. The little Meredith had been a clingy, tearful child. Perhaps she was still there, that sensitive little girl, shielded by this lively chatterbox? And the drinking James had told her about: was
that another shielding layer? Though the latest word on that was that Meredith was solidly on the wagon. She looked well, certainly, a little on the thin side but probably that was just her build; her face was a good colour and you could see the firm muscles in her arms. And to Rose’s surprise, her daughter called her by her name; she had been rather dreading the
Mummy
of the emails. Momentarily, she wondered why the shift, especially since Meredith always referred to Alex as Daddy. But it didn’t matter.

‘It was a bit of a mess a year ago but I’ve been keeping everything shipshape and now that I’m living here, of course, it’s so much easier. And this is what I really wanted to show you; this used to be just the living room but now it’s also…’

They stood together in the doorway of a large rectangular room, which looked onto the front garden. A comfortable couch, a shabby easy chair, and a television set had been arranged in the back part of the room. At the front, where the light poured in from a big window, two old dining tables stood at right angles to each other, and inside the L they formed was a chair on wheels, one of those modern office chairs adjustable in every direction. On one of the tables was a stack of thick paper, card really, and a plain tumbler full of pencils and pens. On the other, one of those clear plastic multi-drawered containers for bits and pieces full of – well, bits and pieces – and sitting neatly beside it a couple of pairs of scissors of different sizes, a snap-blade cutting knife, and various sorts of glue. And between them, what Rose recognised as a work in progress: one of the ‘journal things’ that James had first described to her in words of astonished praise, and Meredith had mentioned only hesitantly, excited but intimidated by the notion that she might be making…
art
!

‘It’s also your workroom,’ said Rose to her daughter, who had fallen silent at last. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Yes, this is my workroom,’ Meredith said quietly. ‘Well, it’s the living room, really.’

‘And your workroom.’

‘Am I really allowed to say that?’

‘You most certainly are!’ Rose exclaimed. ‘Haven’t we moved on from the nineteen sixties, at least? When I always felt I had to clear away my dressmaking things, my sketches and designs, before visitors arrived?’

‘Did you work in the living room, too?’

‘I did then, my dear: now I don’t have to any more. But it doesn’t matter where it is. As long as you have the space you need, and the tools, and you’re not made to feel that it’s something…
secondary
. Unimportant.’

‘Well, I never used to think what I did was important,’ Meredith said.
Where’s that dizzy chatterbox gone?
Rose wondered. This Meredith was a thoughtful woman. ‘Till James told me what you said.’

‘But why should that have made such a difference? You’d already been making these pieces, for years, hadn’t you?’

‘But they were
nothing
! It wasn’t until… It was like I was – listening out for this voice to tell me it was all right, that they were really…That
I
was really real!’

‘Don’t tell me that was
my
voice you were waiting to hear, Meredith. That would be more, I think, than I could bear.’

‘All right then!’ her daughter said, and beamed cheekily at Rose. ‘I won’t tell you that, since you couldn’t bear it!’

‘Thank you, you’re very considerate!’ Rose smiled. ‘And now, would you show me some of your work, please?’

They examined her ‘journal things’ for almost an hour. Rose was amazed that they had remained unknown, unseen by others all these years. There were so many, on loose sheets of card, mostly, but also in bound volumes of various kinds, books Meredith had picked up here and there. Rose saw throughout a vision that, for all its whimsicality, was acute, original and consistent. The odd comic/collages were a commentary, not only on Meredith’s own life, but
the world she lived in. They were hard to define, and genuinely unique.

‘We
must
come up with the right name for these!’ Rose said, carefully replacing a loose sheet in its folder.

‘I guess we do,’ said Meredith, sounding hesitant. She was still shy about them. ‘Silver says she’ll put her thinking cap on.’

What will happen to them next?
Rose wondered.
She can’t still want to keep them private?

They left off to have a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and immediately Meredith became garrulous again, launching into a detailed explanation of how the household practicalities had been worked out. As Rose listened to her rattle on about part-pensions and a carer’s allowance, the other siblings’ contribution and the local council’s programs, she felt sure that this talkativeness was indeed a screen of some kind, a protective layer. Somehow it was hard to
see
Meredith when she chattered on like this: her lively expressions and constant hand gestures seemed to physically obscure her. It was fascinating, and a little unnerving.

‘And as well as the financial help, you know what else Silver’s done? Gosh, she is
such
a terrific woman! But you know that already, Rose! She’s given me all this incredible professional advice, and she’s introduced me to the guy who’s now my agent. You know I just signed a book contract, don’t you?’

‘
No!
’ Rose gasped. ‘A book contract? I had no idea!’

‘
Really?
Oh, good old James, I thought he’d have told you, but I guess he thought it should be my news.’ Meredith was smiling so hard her face looked liable to split in two.

‘Oh, congratulations! Who is the publisher? How thrilling!’

So Meredith described all of that, too, and then when she had finished they were both quiet a moment, almost out of puff. Meredith leaned across and put her hand over Rose’s.

‘One more thing. It wasn’t just hearing that you’d always thought I had talent and might be an artist that made all this… possible. I’d
stopped drinking, too, so I could see my way clear at last. That was what was stuffing me up, really. I was always full of bullshit excuses but that was really it. You know about my drinking?’

‘Something,’ said Rose cautiously.

‘Yeah, well, it was something all right, I can tell you! I was out of control. That’s over now, thank god, but I’ll be going to AA meetings twice a week till the day I die. For sure.’

‘So, was it awful? Giving up?’

‘Mmm, pretty awful. But I have to say, Robert was fantastic. I’m very lucky to have a brother like him. James, too, of course, but Robert was
incredibly
supportive.’

‘There was always something special between you and Robert. From the day you were born.’

‘Yes,’ Meredith said. ‘My big bruvver!’ She paused, listening. ‘And that’s his car!’ Her face lit up with a wicked grin. ‘
Whoo-hoo!
Come on! Time for you to meet Daddy! The big reunion!’ She laughed riotously, as though someone had told a terrific joke.

Well, I wish I thought it was that funny
, Rose thought, trailing behind Meredith to the front door. As her daughter’s hand was on the doorknob she called, ‘Meredith, wait!’, and caught up to her.

‘If he doesn’t remember me…’ she said, her voice suddenly thin and uncertain. ‘If he doesn’t remember that we were married, don’t say anything. Please.’

‘Okay,’ said Meredith, looking at her searchingly. ‘If you’re sure?’

Rose nodded very definitely. ‘Please,’ she said again. Suddenly she was scared, terrified she would break down, lose control somehow. Would she feel sick with regret, with guilt? Revulsion? Overwhelmed by the past rushing in on her? Might there be a shameful surge of relief? Part of her wanted to cry
Don’t open it!
and then Meredith opened the door and stepped out onto the verandah, and she followed.

As she watched Robert walking up the path with an old man, she felt… nothing. Or a pause perhaps, as though everything in
her – body, mind, heart – was holding its breath. Again, she saw her former husband in her son, and realised with a distant shock that Robert was older now by several years than Alex had been when she’d left him. And she’d thought him an old man then!

He was straight-backed and cheerful-looking, a tall man but not a big man, though she had always thought of Alex as big. Alex McDonald. Her first husband.

‘Hello, Daddy,’ called Meredith. ‘We’ve got a visitor!’

Alex looked at Rose and stopped in his tracks, gazing at her. A smile spread slowly across his face.

‘I know you,’ he said wonderingly. He came right up to her and took both her hands in his. ‘We went to school together, didn’t we?’ he said with warmth and certainty.

Rose laughed lightly, feeling a bubble of delight that could pop and become hysteria, but probably wouldn’t. ‘Something like that,’ she said, and tilted her head in her charming way.

‘Actually, Daddy,’ said Meredith, and the mischievous tone in her voice alarmed Rose. She glanced quickly at her and yes, her daughter’s face was alight with glee. Rose caught her eye and shook her head but Meredith’s grin didn’t falter. ‘You used to know this lady very well indeed! This is Rose. She used to be called Rosemarie. This is… my mother.’

‘Well, fancy that!’ exclaimed Alex, still holding Rose’s hands. ‘I’ve always wanted to meet your mother, darl. And to think we used to go to school together, too!’ He gave her hands a welcoming squeeze, and Rose’s heart, which had choked as Meredith said precisely what she had asked her not to say, galumphed into a thumping beat.
I could smack her bottom!
she thought, and the thought was so absurd she had to laugh again.

‘Well, come in, come in,’ Alex urged. ‘Let’s have a nice cup of tea and I’ll show you round my garden. Rose, is it? And you’re just as lovely as a rose, too,’ he declared gallantly.

Rose allowed Alex to lead her down the hallway. Behind her she
could hear Meredith and Robert giggling and whispering together like naughty children.
Is this how they cope with it?
she wondered.
By turning it into a kind of game? Or is that just how I’m seeing it now?

They sat together on a bench in the garden, almost, Rose felt, like an old married couple. Robert was facing them in a big slatted chair, Meredith perched on the arm.
Our children.
Rose felt like she was floating several feet above the scene.
Oh, this is unreal
, she thought.
This is too much!
For an awful moment she had an overwhelming urge to jump up, to run out to the street, ring Roland, get away. And then Meredith made some silly joke that Rose didn’t even hear but Robert and Alex both erupted into laughter, and Robert made as if to push his sister off the arm of the chair and she cried “Eek!’ and caught her mother’s eye and grinned and Rose thought,
No, it’s all right, I can do this. I can stay.