The Last Mile Home (17 page)

After breakfast when Abby was sitting on the verandah rocking Richie, Barney came to her with the little blue box Mrs Anderson had given him at the wedding.

‘Ab, this is something very special. It's something more than a Christmas gift. It's not from me,' he said mysteriously.

Abby took the box and carefully undid the little bow that had been tied so perfectly. She opened it and took out the tiny tissue-wrapped gift. Slowly she unfolded the paper to reveal a beautiful ruby and diamond ring.

She gasped. ‘Barney, it's magnificent.' She looked up and saw sadness in his eyes.

‘Mum sent it over.' He choked a little as he said it.

Abby reached quickly for his hand. ‘ Oh Barney, darling.'

‘It belonged to my grandmother, a sort of family heirloom, I guess.' He paused. ‘ You know what she's saying, Abby. She wants us to be part of the family. All of us.'

Abby slipped the ring over her finger alongside the simple gold wedding band, and held her hand out for Barney to admire. ‘I f only your father . . .' said Abby sadly, suddenly finding it unnecessary to complete the sentence for she knew that Barney was thinking exactly the same thing.

That evening at Amba, Enid put her sewing in her basket, picked up the dogs and walked slowly down the hallway to the library.

‘Good night, Phillip. Merry Christmas to you.'

Phillip turned the tiny key in the door of the leadlight bookcase and looked at his wife standing in the doorway.

‘Goodnight, my dear. Christmas wishes to you too. I'm going to read.'

Enid nodded and went to her room. In the darkness she stood at the window and, looking towards Anglesea, wished her son happiness.

In the library Phillip sat in the leather armchair
bathed in the light of the single lamp standing by his chair. He did not see the gold lettering on the leather jacket of the unopened book, but sat with his eyes closed, feeling very lonely and very sad.

They tucked Richie's toy train from Mr Richards in with the cases and the bundles in the back seat of the car. Eventually they ran out of things to fuss with — the car was ready, the engine and tyres checked yet again, they'd double checked the house for things left behind — and so now they had to say goodbye.

Gwen hugged Richie to her and Bob lent down and kissed his head.

The twins clung to Abby, unable to stop their tears.

‘Stop blubbering,' said Kevin, who was having trouble keeping back tears himself. He shook Barney's hand and hugged Abby then turned away to take Brian's hand.

Barney stretched out his hand to Bob, who took it then gave him a solid hug. ‘Look after my girl,' he muttered. Barney nodded and kissed Gwen's damp cheek and lifted Richie from her arms so she could embrace Abby.

Mother and daughter clung together for a moment. ‘I love you, Mum. I hope I'll be as a good a mum as you.'

‘I'll miss you so much, Ab . . . but be happy.'

Barney gently eased Abby and the baby into the car as Bob picked up Brian and put an arm about Gwen.

The calls and good wishes faded away as the car headed down the track and they all stood in silence, just little Brian waving a hand and saying almost to himself, ‘Bye, bye . . .'

Two days later, Gwen had smoko ready for Bob as he came in from the paddock. He washed his hands at the sink as she poured the hot tea into a mug. Hearing a vehicle pull into the yard, Gwen put down the teapot and looked out of the door.

‘Bob, you'd better come quick.' Her voice was strained and frightened and Bob hurried to her side as the police sergeant got slowly out of the car and took off his hat.

They listened as their life fell apart around them.

There were no words that could possibly make things different, so the sergeant simply stated the facts. There'd been an accident the previous night. At a level crossing. The train had hit the car and killed Barney and Abby outright. The baby had been thrown clear and was under observation in hospital, but he seemed to be all right.

The sergeant cleared his throat. ‘Everything was smashed up pretty bad, but they said the baby escaped with barely a scratch — a miracle really.'

A
BBY AND
B
ARNEY, WHO'D LOVED EACH OTHER
so much in life, were separated in death.

Each family claimed its own and mourned in their own way. The Catholic church was crowded with mourners for Abby. The following day Barney was buried after a sombre service at the Presbyterian church, which wasn't large enough to accommodate the huge crowd of mourners. Enid had to be supported by Phillip throughout the service and while her frail physical presence was there, her heart and spirit had fled.

The Pembertons and the Andersons attended
both services. Mrs Anderson had the sad task of telling the McBrides that Phillip preferred that none of the McBrides attend the funeral of their son. He blamed Abby and her family for taking him from them.

The town and district were devastated by the tragedy. The loss of the two young people was bad enough, but the division between the grieving families added confusing dimensions to individual and community grief. Barely concealed differences surfaced as groups discussed the deaths and their impact. Old-timers agreed that never in memory had the district been so polarised and saddened by tragedy. There were many who confided to each other that no good came of defying church, family and the unwritten rules of society. The official investigation blamed a signal failure as the cause of the accident.

Gwen barely let Richie out of her arms once he came home after being checked in the hospital. The children hovered around supportively, watching Gwen bottle feed the tiny boy and their enthusiasm for helping at bath time created an atmosphere that enabled the entire family to cope with the grief and adjust to new routines dictated by the infant. Gwen's love for her daughter was transferred to the baby with double measure.

Privately, she and Bob spent hours anguishing over their actions. Should they have stopped Abby marrying Barney? Broken hearted or not she'd be alive and with them still. Gwen thought of Abby throughout each day and dreamed of her at night. She vowed to herself that she would think of her every moment of every day as if that would keep her close to her daughter. And each night Gwen sobbed herself to sleep in Bob's arms.

With time, however, the threads of their shattered lives began to weave together. The children returned to school, suffering the stares and whispers of the other children. Bob drove himself to physical exhaustion and Gwen kept sobbing over reminders of Abby all about the house. The laughter had gone from their lives. The songs had ceased.

There was nothing to relieve the grief at Amba. Enid sank into a shadowy world, staying in her bed, her dogs clutched close to her. Her mind was troubled, her heart broken, the tenuous links that had been leading her back to her faith severed forever. There was no God. There was no hope.

Mrs Anderson tried to get her to eat, but more often than not the food trays came back untouched. Concerned, she spoke to Phillip Holten, but Phillip, locked in his own guilt and
grief, could offer little help. When Mrs Anderson asked about the future of little Richie, Phillip Holten bellowed at her to ‘Never mention the child ever again in this house!'

Little had changed six months later, but the joy of Richie's smiles and healthy progress brought light into the lives of the McBride family. Mrs Anderson, sometimes accompanied by Jim, visited most Sundays. Once, working in the kitchen garden at Amba she was describing Richie's latest efforts to Jim when she glanced up to see Enid standing by the door listening. Catching Mrs Anderson's eye, she turned away and walked slowly to her sitting room. The small incident cemented Enid's resolve to confront Phillip over an idea she'd been considering for some time.

‘Am I interrupting, dear?'

Phillip looked up from his stamp album, surprised to see Enid out of her room — she had spent most of her time since Barney's death confined to bed. ‘No. It's perfectly all right. Do come in, my dear. Is something the matter?' He noted that Enid's hands were clenched in front of her and that she was holding herself stiffly. There was something very determined about her manner as she sat down.

‘I wanted to talk to you, Phillip. I have been
thinking for some time about this matter and I have come to a decision.' She took a deep breath, trying to still her nervous breathlessness. ‘I want us to adopt Barnard's son. I believe his place is here. With us.'

Phillip stared at her in outright astonishment, then his face darkened. ‘You're talking nonsense, Enid. I will never countenance such an idea. I refused then, and I haven't changed my mind. We must forget that girl ever existed,' he said bitterly. Then, seeing Enid's tragic face, added more softly, ‘You can't replace him, Enid. He's gone.'

‘It would make me happy, Phillip.'

‘My dear, you haven't the strength to take on a child. And at our age . . .'

‘We have the Andersons . . .' began Enid, but her determination crumbled when she saw Phillip's face set hard.

‘I will not hear any more of this,' he said, holding up his hand . ‘Come, sit down and have a glass of sherry.'

Meekly, Enid sat and Phillip poured the amber liquid into small crystal glasses.

It was Enid's last stand. From then on, her secret feelings for Abby and her lack of resolution with Phillip began to nurture overwhelming feelings of guilt. She kept telling herself how different it might all have been had she really stood up
to Phillip when Barney was pleading for his family's support over his marriage to Abby. She agonised endlessly and her condition quickly deteriorated.

The mood in the house took its toll on the Andersons as well and one night after dinner, Mrs Anderson confided to her husband that it was like working in a morgue. ‘I don't know how much longer I can take it, Jim. It's so depressing round here. I'm more nurse than housekeeper these days.'

‘We can't let Mrs Holten down. Or him for that matter. What would Barney say if we left them in the lurch, eh luv? Besides, where would we go? This has been our home far too long.'

‘You're right,' sighed Mrs Anderson. ‘And I couldn't bear to move too far away from that darling poppet Richie. I keep remembering Barney as a baby . . .' Her eyes filled with tears and her shoulders shook as Jim patted her consolingly.

Within two months Enid was in such frail health, her heartbeat so erratic, that she was admitted to hospital. Phillip spent most of each day at her bedside as she struggled for breath. The doctors were not optimistic. In lucid moments she could talk of only one thing — the baby. Phillip found it increasingly difficult and yet compassion for his wife forced him to listen and acknowledge her words.

Late one afternoon as he sat by her bed, she suddenly opened her eyes and stared at him with fierce, unnaturally bright eyes. She took his hand and gripped it with surprising strength. ‘Phillip,' she said in a hoarse whisper, ‘I so wanted the baby . . . so wanted to love him. He's part of me, Phillip, and you . . . Can you understand that? He needs our love.'

The effort exhausted her and her grip fell away and for a moment she seemed to fall into a sleep. Then her eyes opened and met Phillip's. ‘Love is what we all need.' She took a breath. ‘Love is the only real thing in this world . . . Do you understand, Phillip?'

He took her hand. ‘Yes, dear,' he said quickly, anxious to please but not really understanding what she had said. ‘Enid dear, don't tire yourself. Rest now.'

She closed her eyes and Phillip sat a while longer then left to find a nurse. When they returned, Enid had slipped away.

The nurse checked her pulse then looked at Phillip. ‘ I ' m sorry, Mr Holten.'

‘She wasn't in any pain,' said Phillip, unable to find any other words. He kissed his wife's forehead and, with bowed head, walked slowly out of the room.

Alone in his grief and bitterness, Phillip worked on at Amba, refusing invitations from the Pembertons and other acquaintances to visit or stay for a meal. He spoke little to the Andersons except when necessary. It seemed impossible that his life had come to this. He was now known as a recluse, a lonely and bitter old man.

The gossip in town was of his hatred for the McBride family, how he blamed them for taking away his son and now his wife. But the gossips could not know what was really consuming Phillip Holten. In the long lonely evenings in his darkened library, Phillip sat staring straight ahead into the gloom, trying to fashion a new sense of purpose out of the wreckage of his life. He kept hearing Enid's voice.

‘I so wanted the baby . . . He's part of me, Phillip, and you . . . He needs our love.'

It played on his mind, over and over again, like a record with the needle stuck in a groove until he resolved to act.

Shearing was finished when a letter to the McBrides arrived from a solicitor in Sydney. As he read it, Bob's face tensed, his hands shook and his temper flared.

‘He can't do this,' he shouted. ‘I don't understand. He can't take Richie from us.'

Gwen quickly took the letter and read it, sitting down slowly on a cane chair on the verandah as she took in the unbelievable news — Phillip Holten was taking legal action to obtain custody of his grandson.

She looked up at Bob, speechless for a moment. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. ‘What right has he, what right?' demanded Bob as he stamped up and down the verandah.

‘Maybe as much right as us, luv,' said Gwen quietly. ‘There was no will. We never asked any legal advice, we just assumed . . .'

‘You talk as if you're going to let him go,' said Bob, puzzled. ‘Aren't we going to fight . . . ? '

‘We'd better talk to Father O'Leary.'

Father O'Leary had talked to the solicitor in town and came to see the McBrides, looking gloomy. ‘It could be an expensive legal fight and I don't like your chances. Holten argues he can offer the boy a better, more secure future.'

‘But what about
love,
what about a mother in his life?' demanded Gwen, close to tears.

Father O'Leary patted her hand. ‘ He has Mrs Anderson, who raised Richie's father, plus he says he plans to have a live-in nanny and governess.'

‘Why? Why is he doing this?' cried Gwen.

‘He's lonely, he feels guilty, and he hates us,' answered Bob bitterly.

‘Now, Bob,' Father O'Leary said soothingly, ‘that won't help you or him. Prayer may help though. Will you join me?' And they bent their heads together, praying for guidance and strength for Richie, for the souls of his parents, and for Phillip Holten.

Gwen went to see Sarah Pemberton, wondering if she could help. It was less in desperation and more a quest for sharing the agony with another woman.

Sarah was sympathetic but she too emphasised the harsh reality of Phillip Holten's resources. ‘He has the money, he has a lot of influence still, despite his strange behaviour, and he could make it very difficult for you all if you just tried to disappear with the baby. Look at it this way. You'll be close by Richie here and that's important . . . I know I can speak for Keith when I say you're welcome to stay on here at Anglesea.'

‘Thanks, Sarah.' Gwen's mouth trembled, then she dropped her head on her arms on the table, her shoulders shaking with great sobs. Sarah let her cry out her feelings, patting her shoulder until Gwen gathered herself together.

‘I'm sorry, Sarah. I guess everything got on top of me. This is so hard for us to bear . . . and also knowing it's the last thing Abby would want.'

After several weeks of frantic efforts to try and thwart Phillip Holten, it became clear to the McBrides that they were not going to be able to keep Richie with them. Gwen asked Mrs Anderson to plead their case, that it was a monstrous cruelty to take the little boy, now almost a year old, from the only family he'd known.

‘You'd be wasting your breath. He's already hired the nanny and I'm not supposed to have contact with you about Richie. Once he's over here, I doubt you'll be allowed to see him at all.' Hearing the sadness in her voice, Gwen broke down.

‘All I can say is that Jim and I will give him all the love we can, and keep talking about you all to him. In time Mr Holten might come round. He's a stubborn man, give it a bit of time is all I can say to you.'

It was of little comfort to Gwen. She clung to Richie, who was confused and dismayed at all the tearful attention. Gwen and Bob sat the other children down and tried to explain the situation fairly.

‘We all have each other, Mr Holten doesn't have anybody, and he is Richie's grandfather too,' said Bob. ‘And he can offer him a better future at Amba, schools and so on.'

‘What's wrong with our life, with our school?' demanded Kevin.

The girls started to cry and so did Gwen. Brian, not fully understanding his mother's unhappiness, climbed onto her lap and hugged her.

It was a cold legal document that arrived stating the child would be collected the following Tuesday. Gwen tried to downplay the parting, telling the children they'd be seeing Richie soon for Christmas. Each child kissed and hugged Richie who happily waved as the tearful children trudged down the track to the school bus. Brian was sent up to the Pembertons' to play under Sarah's watchful eye so he wasn't around when Richie left, then Bob and Gwen quietly waited.