The Family Tree (33 page)

‘Oh. Well, I tried –'

‘How
dare
you. How fucking
dare
you,' Kate spat the words like bullets. ‘You
arsehole
. You
knew
how I felt, and yet you went ahead and –'

‘Just a bloody minute.' Sam's voice suddenly veered towards anger itself. ‘You knew what was going to happen. We discussed all of this.'

‘You mean
you
discussed it. You
railroaded
me.'

‘No, I pointed out options. And you agreed. As did Angie.'

‘But I wanted to
leave
the house! Build the units
around
it!'

There was a pause before Sam replied, more gently, ‘You know that was impossible. We went through all this. There wasn't enough room on either side for a driveway that met council specifications.'

‘So you
destroyed
my father's house? It's
gone
!'

‘And you
knew
it would be. I tried to give you fair warning but
you
said you didn't want to know.'

‘I can't believe you did this.' Kate's words were clipped with fury.

‘And I tried to ring you yesterday when it got brought forward. You didn't even bother answering my call!'

‘Well, get used to it.
Arsehole
!' Kate slammed the phone down and then stood staring at it, her lips a thin line of rage. After a few minutes she realised she was still holding the spiralled cord with her other hand, so tightly that her knuckles were protruding whitely against her skin. She unclenched her hand painfully, and the cord bounced back into neat, compact coils.

She felt like screaming
It's not fair!
as loudly as she could, but at the same time was unwilling to release any of her anger. It felt almost wholesome in its righteousness, fuelled by a deep sense of injustice, and betrayal, and severance. That house had been one of the few remaining anchors to her childhood, and to her father. It had framed her early life, grounding her even as she moved away. She would never again see that solid façade, never walk through the rooms, never draw strength from the occasional visit.

Over the next few hours Kate's anger, without losing any intensity, gradually contracted until it was like a white-hot laser with a singular focus – Sam. His lack of sensitivity, his greed, and his willingness to hurt her all framed him like a kaleidoscope of sins. There was a small part of her that acknowledged she was not being wholly fair but it was shouted down by the fact the house was gone, demolished. And Sam had been responsible. Even when they had all spoken about what to do with the property, way back in July last year, he had been the one who had come up with the idea of development. Then he had been the one behind it from that point on. Organising, drawing up plans, obtaining council permission, arranging temporary finances. And yet he was the one who should have been
most
supportive of her feelings, not the one so eager to ignore the obvious – that she was just
not ready
.

Kate held her rage until she saw it as an entity in itself. A fluorescent-white orb of statically charged fury that could be marginalised without any reduction in intensity. So that as she began to function once more, she could shift it into the background where its maintenance was only betrayed by a sudden thinning of the lips.

But an unintentional side-effect of this concentration was that, in order to preserve it, Kate had little emotion left for anything else. So that by mid-afternoon, she was able to explore the destruction of the house as if it was an abstract theorem, without causing any particular angst at all. She could even say the words:
my father's house has been destroyed. It's gone
. And they were almost intriguing. Whilst the word
Sam
shot from her like venom.

The phone rang just as Kate had finished picking the remains of the burnt marijuana from the spa filter, so she wiped her arm down with a towel and went inside. She waited until Shelley's voice sounded on the answering machine before she picked up. ‘Hi, Shell.'

‘Oh good, you
are
home.' Shelley's voice had a tremor of excitement. ‘Screening your calls, hey?'

‘Something like that. Aren't you supposed to be at work?'

‘I took today off,' replied Shelley impatiently. ‘Guess what? I'm going to buy Angie's shop with a
partner
.'

Kate frowned. ‘A partner? Who?'

‘Jacob.'

‘You have to be kidding.' Kate almost laughed. ‘Jacob? And you?'

‘I
know
it sounds stupid but it actually makes sense if you hear me out,' Shelley spoke with eager rapidity. ‘He's going to be in charge of the computer side of things. See, we're going to branch into online selling as well. It's a
huge
market nowadays. Jake's going to computerise all the stock.'

‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea,' said Kate slowly, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. ‘But . . . well, you two don't get on very well, do you?'

‘Oh, that's just because we've never had anything in common,' replied Shelley airily. ‘Now we will. Besides, he's not that bad. And Mum, it's like a win-win situation. An extra source of revenue
plus
I get to share the workload.
And
the risks!'

Kate tried to get her head around the proposal. ‘What about Jacob? Is he
really
keen on this?'

‘Absolutely. In fact, he was the one who brought it up. See, I was
telling Dad all about my ideas yesterday and I mentioned about going online when I get time. Then Jacob just sort of suggested he come on board. I was pretty stunned at first, but when you think about it, it makes sense. And Dad thought it was a
great
idea.'

‘Really.'

‘Yes. And so did Auntie Angie. That's why I took a sickie today. I just
couldn't
wait till Friday. So I spent all morning at the shop talking to her and she thought it was an
excellent
idea. And that it'd be really good for Jake too.'

‘I suppose so.' Kate wound the cord around her finger as she tried to imagine the two of them working together, and although the picture failed to materialise, she realised that this
could
be a good thing, both for the business
and
for their relationship with each other.

‘D'you reckon you might be a little more enthusiastic?'

‘I am, really,' Kate injected her voice with sincerity. ‘It'll just take a bit of getting used to. No, I think you may be on to something. Really. Listen, Shell . . . did you know about the house?'

‘What house?'

Kate felt instantly wounded. ‘Doesn't matter.'

‘D'you mean Grandpa's house? About it being gone now?'

‘Yes.'

‘Yeah, I knew. Caleb and I went round to say goodbye to it yesterday.'

‘Did you?' Kate was pleased that they had done this, and resentful that she hadn't.

‘It's sort of sad, but good at the same time, if you know what I mean. Because if it wasn't for the development, Jake and I wouldn't be able to afford the shop. Don't you think Grandpa would be pleased?'

Kate frowned for a moment and then her face cleared. ‘Actually . . . yes. I think he'd be thrilled.'

‘I better go anyway, Mum. I'm meeting Bronte at the play centre.'

‘Okay. Have fun.' Kate hung up the phone. She replayed Shelley's words several times:
Don't you think Grandpa would be pleased?
And felt suddenly floored by the realisation. It had simply never occurred to
her to think about it like that. Shelley was right, her grandfather
would
be pleased. Both that he was able to leave them such an inheritance, and that they were using it to improve their lives.

Kate realised that her father would be
glad
that the house was gone, just as he would be furious with her inability to let it go. Where she saw an anchor that protected, he would have seen an anchor that held back. Where she saw severance as a tragedy, he would have seen it as a necessary evil, and the first step to freedom. Certainly he would have been horrified that, over nine months later, she was still clinging to the past. Not only because it was such a self-defeating gesture, but because he would have felt responsible. That what he had required at the end was the reason she was stuck. The guilt would have killed him.

The irony of this made Kate smile, despite herself, even as tears welled in her eyes. She missed him so
much
. His insight, his support, his wisdom, his presence. Her grief was, she knew, exacerbated by the manner of his death. And pretending a connection by jotting down random thoughts and memories each day was simply a link to herself, not him. He wasn't listening or reading them or even at the house, waiting for her visits. And never would be either. He was gone.

Kate was still sitting on the armrest when Angie's car turned into the carport half an hour later. She jumped up and hurried into the bathroom where she washed her face and then patted it dry, peering at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were a trifle swollen but apart from that there was nothing to really indicate the emotional rollercoaster she had ridden. She heard the front door open and close as she smoothed on some foundation and then ran a brush through her hair.

Angie was at the island bench opening mail as Kate came through and she looked up with a smile that quickly turned into a frown. ‘Have you been crying?'

‘No.' Kate pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Well, yes. Just a bit.'

‘Why? What's wrong?'

‘Did you know about the house?'

‘Ah.' Angie pushed the mail to one side. ‘I gather it's gone then?'

‘So you didn't know?'

Angie took a deep breath and then let it out before answering. ‘I knew it was soon. Sam told me. But I didn't really want to know when or say goodbye or anything.' She picked up an empty envelope and started pleating one corner. ‘Because I didn't want to remember it like that anyway, all empty and rundown. I'd rather just remember the way it was, before.'

Kate considered this, and then nodded. ‘At least you had the choice.'

‘Do you mean he didn't tell you?' asked Angie, clearly surprised. ‘Hang on, what about when he tried to ring yesterday? Maybe that was it?'

‘Maybe.'

‘You're angry with him.'

Kate felt her fury invigorate, and looked away to hide it. ‘Yes. I am.'

‘Angry about you not knowing? Or angry about the whole thing?'

‘Everything.' Kate kept her gaze averted and her voice even.

‘But that's not really fair.' Angie scrunched the envelope up and tossed it on top of the other letters. ‘It wasn't only Sam, we
all
agreed. Just because he's the one –'

‘Doing the demolition?' finished Kate. Her head pounded but she stretched her mouth into a smile. ‘Anyway, let's talk about something pleasant. I gather my daughter paid you a visit today?'

Angie frowned for a moment before deciding to go with the flow. ‘Yes, she certainly did. So you've heard the news? About Jacob?'

Kate nodded. ‘So what do you think?'

‘Do you know, I think it's brilliant. At first I was a bit taken aback, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. She's going to need help, and he needs something to motivate him.'

‘What about the online selling idea? Is it feasible?'

‘Absolutely,' Angie didn't hesitate. ‘Big business nowadays. I've just never bothered because it's not my forte and it will take a lot of work. But it'll pay off.'

‘And all this means you're definitely going?'

‘I don't think I've got a choice now!' Angie laughed. ‘Shelley would never speak to me again if I changed my mind!'

‘I think you should go anyway. It'll be good for you. Branch out.'

Angie gazed at her steadily. ‘You know none of this would be possible without the development? Shelley and Jacob buying the business. Me going overseas.'

‘I know. And I also know that Dad would be pleased. Uncle Frank too.'

‘They would be, wouldn't they?' Angie inserted her fingernail into the top of another envelope and slid it across with a tearing sound. Then she put it down without opening it further and looked back at Kate.

‘I must say you're taking all this better than I expected. I thought you'd be a wreck when the house went.'

‘No, not at all.' Kate tucked her fury securely to one side so that she could smile, unencumbered. ‘Onwards and upwards as they say.'

Angie gazed at her searchingly for a moment and then smiled back. ‘That's a huge relief. And maybe this'll be really good for you in the long run. Allow you to move on more easily.'

‘Definitely.'

‘I've been quite worried about you, you know.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. Ever since it happened.'

‘Well, I don't know why. I'm fine.'

‘Oh sure.' Angie rolled her eyes. ‘Do you have any idea what you've been like for the past year?'

Kate felt herself tense. ‘Actually, it's been nine months. And of course I have.'

‘You think you've been, well . . . reasonable?'

‘Must we have this conversation now?' asked Kate, staring at her cousin.

‘No, of course not.' Angie suddenly looked contrite. ‘I'm sorry. Bad timing.'

Kate nodded, without answering. She laid her hands on the table and entwined her fingers, making the skin around her knuckles pouch loosely. She flexed, watching the skin tighten and then relax once more, and remembered what Angie had said, the night they were stoned,
about not even knowing the back of her own hand. ‘Do you realise he was going to ring you? That night.'

‘Was he?' Angie spoke carefully. ‘You never told me that.'