The Alphabet Sisters (6 page)

She concentrated on keeping the warm, friendly tone to her voice. “That’s no problem at all, Mr. Lawrence. And you’re still happy with that room? Very good. Thank you very much.”

This Richard Lawrence in room two was turning out to be the perfect guest, she thought as she hung up. Extending his stay week by week, keeping to himself, and so polite. Such a charming English accent, too. Geraldine was mildly curious what he was up to—some sort of writing project, she’d gathered, after seeing the computer and the piles of paper spread around his room when she delivered his breakfast or cleaned his room—but she wouldn’t dream of asking him for any details about it. Not like some other people in this motel …

She made a note in the bookings register and then, using two fingers, carefully typed the same information into the computer on the desk beside her. Carrie had been very persuasive, insisting that it really was very efficient and that of course Geraldine would be able to master it. One day, perhaps. She tentatively pressed Save and gave a satisfied sigh, just as a blue station wagon pulled up outside.

A casually dressed man with dark hair leaped out of the driver’s seat, reached into the back for a pile of newspapers, then took the steps, two at a time, and came inside. “Mrs. Quinlan? Your copies of the
Valley Times,
hot off the press. Will I leave them here?”

“Yes, thank you.” He wasn’t the usual newspaper delivery man, but he did look vaguely familiar. Then again, so did half the townspeople when you’d lived in a place this long. “Where’s Pat?”

“He had a bit of an accident last night.”

“Not again. Is he all right?”

“Nothing two weeks in a drying-out clinic won’t fix.”

“Oh dear. He fell off the wagon again?”

“Not so much fell as took a great, voluntary leap, I think.”

“Who are you talking about?”

They both turned. Lola had come in behind them.

“Pat from the newspaper office,” Geraldine explained. “The man who normally does the deliveries.”

Lola nodded, giving the new arrival a good close look. His hair was a bit long, but she liked those laughter lines around his eyes. “Well, you’re certainly far better looking than poor old Pat. You’ve taken over from him permanently, have you? Can we look forward to seeing you here every week?”

The man laughed. “No, I’m double-jobbing. I usually do the photographs, but we’ve divided up his round between us today.”

She peered at him. “I know you, don’t I?”

“I know you, too, I think. From the charity shop. Lola, isn’t it?”

“Cheeky monkey. It’s Mrs. Quinlan to you.”

A hint of a smile again and a glance at both women. “It’s just there are two Mrs. Quinlans here. I didn’t want to confuse myself.”

Lola clapped her hands. “Marvelous. A man with a bit of wit about him. Are you married?”

Geraldine interrupted, exasperation in her voice. “Lola, would you leave the poor man alone? And would you both excuse me; I need to make a few calls before the girls get here.” Not just make a few calls, but also reorganize the walk-in freezer and brief her stand-in cook about tonight’s dinner preparations. Sometimes Geraldine wondered if Lola had deliberately forgotten how much work was involved in running a motel, not to mention organizing birthday parties at the drop of a hat.…

“Of course, my dear.” Lola didn’t go anywhere, staring at the man for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “I have it now. It’s Daniel Hilder, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got a very good memory.”

She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated way. “I never forget a good-looking face. And I remember you taking those photos when we reopened the charity shop a few years ago. Remember, all of us old ladies dressing up? It was like a Paris fashion shoot, wasn’t it?”

Daniel’s lip twitched. “A bit like that.”

“Lola, please?” Geraldine stood with the phone and a pained expression.

“We’re just leaving, aren’t we, Daniel?” Lola took him by the arm and steered him outside. “Now, what are you doing back in the Valley again? I’m sure someone told me you moved away.” Who was it had told her that? Her memory was so slow these days she was surprised people didn’t hear creaking sounds coming out of her skull.

“I’ve been in Melbourne the past few years, but I came back six months ago. My mother’s still living here.”

“You were in Melbourne?” Lola remembered then exactly who he was and why she knew his name. Her smile stretched even wider. “Well, you’re a good kind boy to come and see your mother, and you’re very welcome home. Tell me, would you be a good kind boy to me, too? I need a little hand in my room with something. Your newspaper deliveries can wait a moment, surely?”

Daniel looked amused. “Of course they can. Lead the way.”

Geraldine watched, shaking her head, as her mother-in-law led the man across the forecourt, talking all the while. There’d be a picture needing straightening that Lola supposedly couldn’t reach, or a shower rose that was pointing the wrong way or some other imaginary task that would give her the opportunity to grill her poor victim.

God help him, Geraldine thought as she reached for the phone.

T
here it is, there it is,” Ellen shrieked.

Anna glanced at her daughter, who had nearly clambered out of the car seat and onto the dashboard in her excitement. “Where, Ellie? I can’t see anything.”

“There, up on the hill.”

Anna pulled the hire car onto the side of the road and looked out the opposite window. She saw vineyards and gum trees, the foundations of a house, and two vans with Clare Valley Builders written on the side in large letters parked beside it. “I can’t see anything. Are you sure?”

Ellen was laughing now. “Mum, you’re looking the wrong way.”

Anna looked down at her feet. “No, nothing here.” Then she looked up. “No, nothing there either. Ellie, your eyesight must be much better than mine.”

“Muuum.”
Ellie unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over, placed a little hand on either side of Anna’s face, and turned it in the right direction. “See, there.”

“It does look a bit familiar. What does that sign say?”

“It says the Valley View Motel. Vacna …” Ellen struggled with the word at first. “Vacancies. Restaurant and Bar. Function room available. What’s function?”

“Another word for a party.”

“Is that where Really-Great-Gran’s birthday party will be tonight?”

“I think so.” Anna gazed at the motel. Built in the 1970s, it was a perfect example of the architecture of the time: a series of building blocks, placed clunk-clunk-clunk beside one another on the hillside just north of Clare, the largest town in the Clare Valley. There were fifteen guest rooms, one row of seven facing another row of eight, with the extra room the linen store. Linking the two lines of rooms was the small bar, a tiny reception area, a medium-size restaurant and kitchen, and a large function room. Anna had always thought the motel would make the perfect setting for a retro drama series, right down to the brown carpets, white plastic bathrooms, nylon curtains, and orange bedspreads.

“Mum, come on.” Ellen was tugging at her arm. “We’re not going to park here, are we?”

“You’re sure you’re ready? Sure you want to go there?” Anna teased.

Ellen considered the question seriously. “I am feeling a little bit shy. I haven’t seen them for a long time, have I?”

Anna knew exactly how Ellen felt. She was nervous about seeing her sisters again, too, she realized. Three years on and she still felt caught in the middle—trying to make peace between Carrie and Bett, she’d managed beautifully to make things worse. “Nothing to be frightened of here, Ellie, I promise you. They’re your family, remember?”

Her cheery tone convinced Ellen, but it did nothing for herself. She wished she felt fresher, more ready for this. It had been only a two-hour flight from Sydney to Adelaide, and then the same length drive from the airport to here. She’d always liked the drive from Adelaide to Clare, too. The long straight highway through flat plains and wide yellow paddocks slowly giving way to the curving roads of the Valley, vineyards and tree-covered hills on either side. But she still felt drained. It must be the tension of coming home, she thought. Or the aftermath of emotion from that morning’s spat with Glenn. He’d made a point of being there to say good-bye to Ellen.

“You know I’ll cry myself to sleep every night while you’re away,” he’d said, as he picked the little girl up in a hug. He was so broad it took nothing out of him. Ellen could have been two, not seven.

“Me, too,” Ellen had giggled, as Glenn tickled her. She had thrown back her head, laughing, completely unself-conscious with him about her scar.

“And don’t forget to do me lots of drawings. And to breathe in lots of that country air.” He had done some mock deep breaths, making Ellen laugh even more. “And you won’t forget you’re my favorite daughter, will you?”

Ellen shook her head.

“And not only that,” Glenn continued. “But the best daughter in—”

“The whole wide world!” Ellen had finished it for him, as she always did.

Anna had received no such attention. She and Glenn had spoken quickly, coldly to each other. She’d been deliberately vague about how long they might be away, knowing it would annoy him. He had reminded her of the possibility he’d need to go to Singapore for business, if the office expansion ended up going ahead. She had pretended she had forgotten all about it, and enjoyed the little dart of annoyance she knew that had sent through him. How had it gotten so bad? she’d wondered, even as she said good-bye in her most carefree voice. Ellen hadn’t noticed a thing—she hoped. She had been too busy waving until her father was long out of sight.

Anna tried to block out those thoughts and smiled across at her daughter now. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“I’m ready, sweetheart,” Ellen replied, grinning at her own cheekiness. “But we can’t go yet.”

“Why not?”

“You have to look at yourself in the mirror first. That’s what you always do.”

Anna laughed. Indeed she did. “You don’t miss a trick, do you, Miss Ellen?” She ostentatiously checked her face in the rear-vision mirror, wrinkling her nose, squinting, baring her teeth, playing up to Ellen’s laughs beside her, even as she quickly took the opportunity to dab away a tiny spot of mascara and reapply her lipstick. Then she took a deep breath and started the car.

I
n the flower shop in the middle of Clare, Carrie glanced at her watch. The young florist noticed.

“Carrie, if you’re running late, I can drop these up to the motel for you later today. The party doesn’t start until seven, does it?”

Carrie didn’t mind if it took all day to prepare her order. She didn’t mind if she had to live in the flower shop from this moment on. Anywhere was better than being at the motel waiting for Anna and Bett to arrive.

“Carrie? Do you want me to do that?”

Carrie took a seat beside the counter. “No, I’m in no rush at all. Honestly, take as long as you like. In fact, why don’t I go and get us both a cool drink?”

T
he weather hasn’t helped, of course. The past week or so it’s been more than thirty degrees every day. People want to head for the sea, not the countryside. Still, just as well we have a few empty rooms with you girls being home again.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” Anna said, trying to keep up with her mother’s update on the motel occupancy rate.

Anna and Ellen had walked through the reception area into the kitchen, surprising her mother, who had been wrestling with something in the walk-in freezer. Geraldine looked immaculate as ever. Not unlike a 1950s housewife, Anna had always thought. There was a brief hug, then her mother turned to Ellen, bending down, giving her a quick hug and kiss, too. “And welcome to you, too, Ellen.”

Anna watched, waiting for some reaction to the scar. It wasn’t the first time her mother had seen it. She had come to Sydney after the accident happened, to lend a hand, much to Anna’s surprise. But it was the first time she’d seen it in months.

“Well, aren’t you both looking great. Ellen, you must have grown three feet since we saw you last.” Geraldine straightened up, put her hands on her hips, and stepped back.

That was the physical contact over for the visit, Anna thought. She knew it wasn’t her mother’s fault she wasn’t a tactile person, but it had been hard at times to be her affection-craving daughter. Anna showered Ellen with hugs and cuddles and caresses, more than the child wanted sometimes. Ellen pressed close against her now, still shy, her hair forming a curtain over the right side of her face.

Geraldine busied herself in the kitchen again, passing on news over her shoulder. Anna and her sisters had always laughed at their mother’s conversational style. She had to be doing something while she asked questions or relayed information, be it mopping the floor or preparing meals for guests or sometimes, in shouts, over the noise of vacuum cleaners. She’d had the same approach to mothering, in fact—fitting it in around her other, more pressing tasks.

“Carrie will be back in a moment. She’s gone into town to collect the last of the flower displays for the party. Bett’s flying in today, too, of course. Insisted on driving herself up from Adelaide. Lola is around somewhere. I’m surprised she didn’t hear the car coming in. Your father had to make a quick trip to the bottle depot this morning, but he said he’d be back as soon as he could—”

“He’s here now, in fact.”

They both spun around at the sound of his voice. He’d come in through the back door. “Hello, Anna, and aren’t you looking beautiful?”

“Dad! Full of charm as usual,” she said, smiling at him.

“No, just telling the truth. You took after your mother, luckily,” he said with a wink in Geraldine’s direction.

Anna was amazed to see her mother get soft-eyed at the praise. Honestly, what were the two of them like? She waited, and sure enough, her father dropped a kiss on her mother’s head as he went past her.

“You should be glad your parents get on so well. Mine fought all the time. That’s much harder to live with,” Glenn had said in their early days, when she’d tried to explain how excluded she and her sisters had sometimes felt. “It’s unusual, though, I’ll give you that. Business partnerships and marriages don’t tend to last.” But her parents had always loved working together, putting across a united front, making decisions together, a true partnership. Anna had childhood memories of lying in bed at night, hearing her parents come in from locking up the motel, listening to the murmurs of conversations as they talked over their day, planned for tomorrow. That’s what she’d wanted when she met Glenn. What she’d thought she had when she met Glenn.