The Ripple Effect (23 page)

He readjusted his sunglasses. Tall gums towered on either side of the road, dappling the sunlight in a strobe light effect. Suddenly the thick trees vanished and they were whizzing through green pastureland dotted with grazing cows.

“Look,” said Shay. “All I’m saying is, I understand how you feel but I also understand how William and Natalie feel and I think you should try to understand as well.”

“You have no idea how I feel,” snapped Joelle, still with her head averted. “If you did you wouldn’t say what you just said.”

Shay decided his best option was to keep his mouth firmly closed and his foot on the accelerator.

The remainder of the journey passed in an atmosphere of strained politeness. Joelle made no comment when Shay drove straight through Maitland as he usually did when going to Birrigai alone. Those trips he only stopped for petrol or a toilet break, preferring to barrel on and get home as fast as he could. This time he’d planned on stretching out the drive into a more leisurely expedition. Having Joelle captive in the car was a treat he’d looked forward to eagerly and so had she, he knew. Now, with resentment and anger infusing the air with tension he wanted to get her into the mollifying aura of his parents as soon as possible. Amy would calm her down and no-one stayed angry in Stan’s presence for long.

Joelle would understand very quickly, why he didn’t feel the same way about his adoption as she did. Why he was content with the family he had, particularly now it was complete with the discovery of his sister. He’d never wasted much energy speculating about his father, accepting the man would never be found. Emily’s relatives were another matter. They were a definite possibility but he was in no rush. One new relative at a time.

“Can we stop soon, please. I need to go to the loo.” Joelle’s quiet request jerked him back to the present uncomfortable situation

“Sure. Next place we come to,” he said. “About ten minutes. We can have a cup of coffee. Stretch our legs.”

“All right.”

Subdued and almost silent. Shay hoped this wasn’t an indication of a sulky nature hitherto unseen. She’d been so chatty and bubbly when they started out. Couldn’t she see he only wanted her happiness? How could she twist his remarks round so that he became almost an enemy? Women’s logic escaped him completely sometimes. He released a stream of air in a long sigh. Joelle glanced his way but said nothing.

On the home run now. This stretch of countryside never changed. Brown, undulating pastureland, scattered gumtrees, the occasional group of sheep wandering aimlessly or just standing. Mile after mile of it. A person who’d grown up out here developed patience and resilience. The vastness of the sky, the emptiness of the landscape, the natural rhythm of the seasons, the harshness and cruelty—you either rolled with it, adapted and learned to love it regardless, or fought it. Those who fought usually lost.

Shay was more than relieved when the Birrigai town sign flashed by. Although Joelle had been civil during the journey, the underlying tension remained, destroying the closeness of last night and this morning and revealing just how fragile and illusory that closeness really was. He’d imagined it. She was a stranger. A woman whose deepest emotions had been savaged by the people she loved most. A woman he’d grown to love and whose security he’d been instrumental in destroying.

The slowing of the car and the cluster of new houses on the outskirts made Joelle sit up straight and peer out the window with renewed interest. He thought she’d been asleep for the last hour but maybe she’d just opted for closed eyes in preference to making conversation.

“Another five minutes,” he ventured.

“You must be tired,” she said and he took it as a tentative conciliatory gesture.

“A bit.”

He slowed the Golf to the required 60 kph speed limit as they entered the town proper along the tree-lined main street. The Fraser’s had painted their roof since he’d been here last. About time. Next door old Wal Cooper was sitting having a smoke on his front porch. He stared through thick glasses as Shay waved but obviously didn’t recognise the newcomer. Wal had never been able to see further than his front gate, anyway.

The road had a couple of new potholes just near the pub in the middle of town. Five or six cars were parked angled rear-in to the deep gutters. A young woman he didn’t recognise came out of the general store carrying a baby. Must be from one of the new places they’d passed on the way in.

Pretty quiet, as usual, for mid-afternoon. The primary school would let out in about twenty minutes and then things would change. Kids would flock to the store exactly the way he and his mates had done all those years ago. They’d be excited kids today, looking forward to the Easter break.

He noticed Joelle watching everything, fascinated. Her eyes darted here and there, as she twisted her head about to take in everything she could. What was she thinking? That Birrigai was a dump? A dead end, one horse town fit only for losers and no-hopers?

“Typical country town,” Shay said, hearing himself sound almost apologetic. “A pub, café, general store, primary school, stock and station agent, garage, police station, community hall…hey, that’s new!”

He slowed the car even more as they passed a restaurant called ‘Betsy’s’ stuck in between the Birrigai and District Stock and Station Agency and the Post Office which doubled as newsagent and chemist shop. The name, painted in arty blue lettering on the window and with a blackboard menu on the footpath. Another sign promised Arts and Craft.

“Looks very trendy,” commented Joelle. “We should try it.” No sarcasm. She really did seem interested.

“Sure.”

“Where’s the Medical Centre?” she asked.

“Straight on and down to the right. Birrigai only has three streets.”

“Where was Emily found?”

“Out along Roberts Road. That’s another kilometre further on this road over the bridge and then left. Dad will take you out there if you like. Show you the exact spot.”

“Do you know where it is?”

Shay nodded. “I had a mate who lived on Roberts Road. We used to ride past it all the time on our bikes.”

Shay slowed and turned left down the street his parents had lived in all his life and longer. Neat white or cream painted weatherboard houses faced each other across the narrow strip of tar. Gardens struggled in the dry soil but careful tending with recycled house water meant most had a show of autumn flowering colour. Rough grass edged the roadway instead of kerbs and gutters. Big old gums stood on the nature strips. Front fences kept out stray animals and dirt or gravel driveways lead to the homes.

He turned into number eight. Jedda gave a deep-throated woof from the wide veranda and stood up waving his tail regally.

Joelle smiled. “Who’s that?”

“Jedda.” The front door opened and Amy rushed out, beaming with delight.

“And that’s Mum,” added Shay.

Joelle unclicked her seat belt as a slim, grey-haired woman ran down the steps and across the grass towards them. She wore jeans and a white t-shirt with the Sydney Olympics logo on it. Her feet were thrust into brown leather sandals, which slapped and flapped as she moved. Joelle’s stomach contracted and her hand froze on the door handle. What if Shay’s mother didn’t like her? What if…

“Come on,” said Shay. His door was already open and he leaped out straight into the arms of his mother. She only came up to his chin as she hugged him. Short she might be but not timid. She was busily remonstrating with Shay about leaving his sister in the car. The dog had trundled down the steps and joined in the welcome with a couple of excited barks.

Shay released his mother, patted Jedda and turned to beckon to Joelle. Amy rushed around to her door and the smile on her face wiped any doubts from Joelle’s mind about her welcome. She pushed the door wide and got out, feeling her joints complain after the long stretch of sitting.

“Hello, darling,” Amy cried. Tanned skin crinkled about her eyes and mouth as she beamed. She wore no make-up but her round face shone with health and happiness under the pageboy cap of silver grey hair.

“Hello.” Joelle smiled, uncertain as to whether a hug or kiss or shaking hands was in order but Amy solved that by grabbing her in a fierce embrace coupled with a resounding kiss on the cheek.

“You’ve no idea how excited I’ve—we’ve—been to meet you. Stan’s even more excited than I am.” Amy sniffed and Joelle was amazed to see tears gathering in the blue eyes. “And Olive, of course. She’ll be here later. For dinner. She can’t wait either but she’s on duty at the Medical Centre or she’d be here now.”

“Oh I’m…I…I had no idea.” Joelle looked helplessly at Shay who stood smiling happily, watching. “You didn’t tell me…”

Jedda stuck his damp nose into Joelle’s hand and she rubbed his velvety ears, relieved at the distraction. “Hello Jedda.” He licked her fingers.

“What? That people would be pleased to meet you?” Shay strode to the rear of the car and flung open the hatch to retrieve their bags. He grinned as he swung them out. “Of course, they are.”

“You were about the only good thing to come out of those terrible fires,” said Amy. She tucked her arm into Joelle’s and began leading her to the house. “Get out of the way, Jed.” The dog grinned up at them.

“And my Shay,” she added. “He was my gift. Now come in and have a cuppa and freshen up. I’ve just this minute taken a batch of scones out of the oven. You timed it perfectly.” She squeezed Joelle’s arm. “He always managed to do that when food was involved.”

Shay laughed behind them. “Mum’s a great cook, that’s why,” he said.

The green roofed house had a wide veranda on three sides shading the walls from the heat of the summer sun. Inside the front door, a red-patterned carpeted corridor ran straight through to the kitchen at the rear. Doors opened off to the sides. First on the left was a large living room with the door open. Joelle glimpsed comfortable chairs, a coffee table covered in magazines and papers and a big old couch. Amy showed her into the second room on the right, a bedroom decorated in soft blue and cream with darker blue curtains. White painted shelves matched a wardrobe and a chest of drawers, with a straight-backed chair pushed under a small desk by the window.

“This used to be Lisa’s room,” she said. “Ben and Evan were next door. I’ve put Shay in there. Stan and I are on your other side.”

“This is lovely.” Joelle gazed about. “What a beautiful quilt.”

The bed was covered with a handmade swirl of colour. Triangles of fabric arranged in an intricate pattern of blues, reds, greens and oranges. As though a jewel box had been opened and its contents strewn at random over the bed.

“I made that,” said Amy proudly. “I sewed all the clothes for the children when they were small. Now it’s grandchildren and quilting.”

“It’s absolutely wonderful.” Joelle ran her hand gently over the fabric.

“The bathroom’s opposite, next to the study.”

“The study that used to be my room,” put in Shay. He deposited Joelle’s suitcase just inside the door.

“Thanks.” Her eyes caught his for an instant but he looked away before she could read what he was thinking. Was he still mad at her? She wanted to apologise for being so bitchy but she didn’t know how. He’d been too polite and careful not to antagonise her for the majority of the journey. He’d withdrawn and she hated that feeling of isolation. She needed his support now more than ever.

“You can sleep in there if you like,” Amy was saying to Shay. “I was going to put Lisa in the study and Ben in with you because the room’s bigger.”

“Shouldn’t Lisa have this room?” said Joelle. “If it was hers?”

“No, no. She’s only staying one night. You’re here longer,” said Amy. “Now you have a wash and then come to the kitchen.”

“The kitchen’s the command centre of this house,” said Shay. “Mum’s the commander.”

“Get out of here and leave Joelle in peace.” Amy pushed him through the door ahead of her.

“See?” said Shay as he disappeared.

Smiling, Joelle closed the door. Shay’s voice asked, “Where’s Dad?”

She wondered the same thing. Amy was lovely, warm and welcoming but Stan was the one she’d really come to see. And Olive. They were the only two people who’d met her mother.

Amy looked up and smiled as, ten minutes later, Joelle entered the kitchen. “Sit down, darling. Stan should be back soon. He’s had to go over to Bert Stevens’ about the mower. You’re earlier than we expected.” She poured boiling water from a kettle into a big green china teapot.

The aroma of baking hung heavily in the warm air, making Joelle’s mouth water. Shay sat comfortably at the big wooden table with a large plate of scones before him. A dish of jam, another of fresh whipped cream, four mugs, plates and cutlery completed the setting. Joelle pulled out a chair opposite.

“We had a good run,” he said, his cool eyes upon her. Was he going to tell his mother they’d driven almost non-stop because of her own snappiness? That he wanted to get here as fast as possible to off load his irrational new relative onto his parents? “And we left just after seven.”

“You must be tired, Joelle,” said Amy. “Shay always drives straight through.” She plonked the teapot on the table and turned to open the fridge.

“I was keen to get here, too.” She offered him a tiny smile and he grinned in return. A warm glow spread from the tight spot in her stomach. The tension eased.

“It must be very strange for you.” Amy placed a pretty rose patterned china milk jug on the table along with a matching sugar bowl. “Very difficult suddenly having someone turn up out of the blue and say he’s your brother.”

“It was a shock,” said Joelle. “It still is.”

Amy sat down next to her and began pouring tea into the mugs. Shay helped himself to a scone, cut it in half and piled on apricot jam, following with a dollop of soft whipped cream. The whole lot disappeared in one bite.

“Shay,” cried his mother. “No wonder the poor girl was shocked, getting a greedy guts like you for a brother.”

Joelle giggled at the expression on his face. Pure bliss. Cheeks bulging, he lifted a finger and delicately wiped a spot of cream from the side of his mouth. He swallowed and picked up the remaining half of the scone.