5 Peppermint Grove (42 page)

When Angela returned to Dublin, at least Ruth would have the comfort of Brian who was a good man. It was strange for Angela and eerie in many ways – her greatest fear was in some way a prophetic feeling that she had harboured deep inside. She had always known that Ruth would end up back here one way or another and it was better that it was this way than any other.

Suddenly she heard the front door bang.

“Mum, I’m back!”

Angela went out to the hall and gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek. “I’m not long in ahead of you.

“I’m roasting – let me have a shower and then we might pop in to see Brian on the way to Fremantle.”

Angela was pleased by the idea. She had loved Fremantle – the hippy market was where she had picked up some of her nicest clothes. She thought that she still had a kaftan somewhere in the attic that she had kept from those days in the sun.

Ruth didn’t take long and it was only five o’clock when they set off down Railway Road.

She expected to see a reaction from her mother and was pleased at the relaxed nonchalant way that she looked at the houses as they raced by.

“Are we in Peppermint Grove yet?”

“Yes, we are just there now.”

“I was only here a couple of times. Myra was very strange about coming into posh areas. The view is beautiful from here though, isn’t it?”

Ruth agreed and drove on. She turned up a side street and the road sign
Peppermint Grove Road flashed at the side of the kerb. Ruth glanced at her mother and saw her  wince upon seeing the words.

“Does that say
Peppermint Grove Road?”

“Yes,” Ruth said, trying desperately to sound casual. “This is where Brian is working. He’s still here – he
texted me just before we left.”

Ruth watched as her mother craned her neck to see the house numbers. She passed Number 14 then 11 then 7 and as they pulled up at Number 5 Angela froze.

“Are you okay, Mum?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine – I think I’ll stay here.”

Angela looked as if she had seen a ghost. Ruth felt very cruel for not telling the truth to her mother now. She should have warned her where they were going.

But Brian was already at the gate, standing next to the Number 5 on the pillar. The house had come on leaps and bounds and Ruth hardly recognised it from the plot that had been there when she first visited with Julia a month before.

Brian walked over to the car and leaned his head down to the level of the side window.

“G’day, ladies. Nice of you to drop by. Do you want to see the house now, Ruth?”

Angela was fanning herself with a leaflet that she had found in the pocket of the door.

“Angela, would you like to pop in and see my design?”

“It’s very hot,” she said shaking her head. “I’d much rather stay here.”

Brian looked at Ruth as she got out of the car.

“Are you sure, Mum?”

Angela nodded vehemently. “Quite sure. Now you two go ahead and leave me with the air-conditioning on.”

“Okay, we won’t be long,” said Brian. “They’re finishing up for today.”

Ruth followed Brian up the drive.

“I feel terrible – she’s obviously upset. I didn’t warn her.”

Brian was concerned for her mother too. “Maybe say something later. I won’t come with you to Fremantle – she probably needs to speak with you alone. The Walters family are all gone – that nephew doesn’t seem concerned about the finer details of the house. I have a gut feeling that he’s developing it for resale.”

They wandered into the new house which was taking shape beautifully. Brian really was a very talented architect. It was modern and spacious and had a good feel about it.

“I’m impressed. You’ve done so much in such a short time.”

“We have to be quick – there’s another job waiting for us in Mosman Park soon as we finish here. Thanks for calling by, Ruth – it’s just a shame your mum didn’t come in.”

“I know but thanks anyway, Brian. I’ll call you later and see what she says. It’s all very weird – especially when she spoke about the reformatory. I feel this story isn’t over yet.”

Brian nodded as he walked her back down the drive.

“Catch you later,” he said.

He gave her a warm kiss hard on the lips that sent a thrill through her spine. It would have to keep her going until she saw him again. For now she had a more pressing job at hand and she had to be very careful that she did it without upsetting her mother.

Angela was silent for the entire car journey and as they turned on to Mews Road and off the Esplanade she let out a loud sigh.

Ruth parked at the Little Creatures Brewery which was a hive of energy and activity with flashing lights and jazzy new-age music greeting all patrons as they passed through the doors. The symbol of a Cupid drinking a pint of beer was painted boldly under the eaves and popped up on the menu and along the walls. It had the strangest atmosphere – almost church-like with high ceilings, white pillar candles dotted along the bar and long rows of tables. There was an outdoor option but ‘The Doctor’ was sweeping in through the back door and they decided to stay inside. They took a booth so they could have some privacy.

“Sorry, Mum, I didn’t expect it to be so noisy.”

To Ruth’s surprise her mother shrugged and said that she liked it. The kitchen was open-plan and behind it the huge silver drums used for holding the freshly brewed beer glistened like giant trophies.

They scanned the large card menu and Ruth felt bad for doing what she had done. Her mother’s silence spoke a multitude. Did she suspect that Ruth knew possibly more about the Walters family than she would like her to know?

“Is everything okay, Mum?”

“Of course – I said I liked it here.”

“No, I mean . . . you’ve been very quiet since we left Brian.”

Angela put down the card and looked her daughter straight in the eyes.

“Did you know where you were bringing me tonight?”

“Here?”

“No, not here!” Angela said crossly. “What is Brian’s business with Number 5?”

“He’s doing the building work for a man named Arthurs.”

“But why that house and how did you really meet Brian?”

It was Ruth’s turn to come clean – she couldn’t expect her mother to tell the truth if she didn’t come clean first.

“Okay, Mum . . .”

Just then a waitress came over to take their order. They chose a pizza each and a salad to share before getting their privacy back.

“I have a confession to make,” said Ruth. “Before I left I went up to the attic to store some bits and pieces and I came across a box and a letter that was addressed to Charles Walters at Number 5,
Peppermint Grove Road. I remembered that you mentioned Peppermint Grove and I wanted to know more, so when Julia came over here we searched the house out and that’s where we met Brian. I was curious to know who Charles Walters was and why you never posted the letter. But now that I know he was your boss – it was probably just some work stuff and, well, I let my imagination get the better of me.”

Angela was white in the face now. This was not the way that she had planned on telling her daughter this news. She pondered if this was the right place but with so much noise and so many people there probably wasn’t any better.

“And what did you think?”

“Honestly?”

Angela nodded.

Ruth continued. “We thought that maybe this man was someone that you had an affair with or something like that.”

Angela laughed. “Do I strike you as the type?”

Ruth was now mortified. She wanted to tell her mother about her own infidelity with Ian but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I’m only messing with you, love,” Angela said gently. “No, I didn’t have an affair while I was here. You see, the reason I left Australia was because your father let me down. Something terrible happened to me while I was working in the restaurant. I told you already that Charles Walters was a good man and that was true but he had a son who wasn’t. Charlie was a silver-spoon kid. He drove a Mustang convertible and flaunted his cash about town. He had any girl that he wanted. He used to come into the restaurant and demand the best table. He never paid and always felt up the waitresses while his girlfriend was in the bathroom. Sometimes he would come in on his own and he was always very drunk before leaving.”

Ruth was agog. She hung on her mother’s every word. Something told her inside that what she was about to hear was not something that her mother would necessarily have ever told her if she hadn’t come to
Australia.

“One night he hung around until after closing. He particularly liked me because of my red hair. He followed me out to the back kitchen and small staff room that was just for the waitresses. He got it into his head that I was teasing him and I assured him that I was a married woman. He said that he didn’t mind.” Angela stopped to take a deep breath. “Anyway this night he grabbed me and told me that if I screamed he would kill me. He had a knife in his hand and was getting some sort of twisted pleasure from threatening me. He forced himself upon me and, well, I don’t need to tell you I was scared and I let him have his way.” Angela’s eyes filled up as she continued with the story. “I was a broken woman after that – I went home and your father was in the pub.
Myra helped me to have a bath and she gave me a shot of brandy. I was vomiting and terrified. When your father got home he didn’t understand. He had drink taken and blamed me for having sex with another man. He was more hurt at that thought than anything I had been put through. It was horrific and I wrote to Mr Walters telling him that I wasn’t going back to my job. His son must have told him what happened because he came around to my house full of apologies and offering me money not to charge him. I wasn’t interested in anything like that – I was unhappy with your father at this stage and his drinking and I knew the only way I could recover would be if I got home to Dublin. Myra helped me to organise it and that’s what I did.”

Ruth was horrified to the core. “But did you not press charges?”

“I knew there was no guarantee that the police would believe me – we are talking about rich and powerful people – it was a different time. But Charles Walters knew what his son was like and he was sick of him.”

Angela paused. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for the next piece that she had to tell.

“So I went home and had you and your father still couldn’t cope with the fact that I had been with another man.”

Ruth banged the table. She was so angry with her father. How could he be so spineless! “I don’t understand why Dad let you down this way – why didn’t he support you?”

Angela shook her head. “You have to understand it was a different time – he genuinely thought that I must have led the young Charlie Walters on. But his father knew just what his son was like.”

Suddenly a dreadful thought struck Ruth. Her eyes widened as the penny dropped.

“Mum – the baby you had – that was me – was that from the . . .?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Angela’s lips tightened. It was a good time to tell her. She hadn’t had sexual relations with her husband for three months before the rape – there was no doubt in the world that her daughter’s father was Charlie Walters. A nod was enough to speak a multitude.

Ruth gasped. The man who she always thought was her father was not.

“And Charlie Walters is dead?” She remembered what Brian had told her about the son – killed in a car accident.

Angela nodded again. “Charles wrote to me after I got back to Dublin. He told me that his son had been killed in a car accident – I wasn’t surprised as he was always racing around town and was a heavy drinker. That was when he told me about his humble beginnings and how sorry he was that he had let his family down. There was nobody left for him to leave his fortune to. I cried when I read the old man’s words. He was broken and had lost everything and he desperately wanted to see you – his grandchild. He wanted some connection with the next generation. I couldn’t do it though – I didn’t want him or his money and I couldn’t allow them to enter our family. Kevin needed his father so much when we returned – he had developed an Australian accent and it wasn’t easy for a child to be different in seventies Ireland. I begged your father to come home and when he saw you he found it difficult at first to hold you but you were the only girl . . . and with the years we never mentioned the differences. It was easy – you are the picture of me.”

“And what about Dad – how long did he stay on?”

“For six months but that only helped him to make up his mind to come home. He was hurt and I was hurt and in our roundabout way we found each other again. We are still together so there must have been something pulling at us both.”

Ruth was trembling at this stage.

Just then the waitress arrived and put their food down on the table. “Enjoy!” she said and left.

“I wish I had a stiff drink now!” Ruth said. “I need one after that.”

Angela put her hand out and rested it on her daughter’s. “I’m sorry that I had to tell you in this way. There was never a proper time or place to do it – when you were in school you were too young – in college you were under too much pressure and then for the last couple of years I felt like I was losing you or something.”