The old lady signalled for a glass of water so Kate filled a plastic tumbler on the tray table and handed it to her. ‘Go on.’
‘Not many women went to work in those days,’ Betty continued. ‘I couldn’t afford the rent and I had to find a way to survive. I stayed and got a boarder in. Luckily she brought some furniture with her so we had somewhere to sit.’ She stopped to catch her breath. ‘Later I minded other people’s babies. It was a day-care of sorts although some mothers stayed as well – it became a kind of hostel for unmarried mothers.’ She gave Kate a sideways glance. ‘You know it was scandalous back then to have a baby out of wedlock.’
‘I know,’ said Kate sympathetically. ‘What happened to Frank?’ She wondered if the topic of her husband’s future life was taboo. Whether it was or not, it was too late. With her dog-tiredness, her ability to choose her words was escaping her.
This didn’t seem to upset the old woman. ‘He lived with her for as long as it lasted, which was about ten years, and they had two children – a boy and a girl,’ she said. ‘I never knew their names. I used to see him come and go every day from my window and he didn’t so much as look in my direction. I always took good care to sneak in when no one was around so that I didn’t have to speak to them.’
Good grief, thought Kate. She never even knew his children’s names. He lived next door for years with a heartless woman who could steal a young girl’s husband and flaunt him right under her nose. She hoped Matt would have the decency to move far away.
Kate straightened the top blanket and patted it gently.
‘I don’t know where he went after that,’ the old woman went on. ‘Another man came regularly to the house after him, a younger man again.’
‘Oh,’ breathed Kate.
‘My daughter visits regularly,’ Betty suddenly said brightly, sensing her shock and changing the subject. ‘She’s my rock. She’s coming in today.’
Kate managed a weak smile and reminded herself of Betty’s daughter. She had met Margaret, silver-haired and a little stiff in stature, who came in twice a week to see her mother. She seemed to be incredibly balanced for someone who had watched her father and half-siblings grow up as strangers just metres away. What did she think of the rest of her family living close by, estranged? Maybe she didn’t know, or maybe she just shut it out.
‘That’s wonderful,’ she managed. ‘Did you have more children?’
‘No, I never remarried. I wasn’t prepared to go through it again. I got on with my life.’
Kate wondered where Frank McCloster was now. She did a quick sum in her head – he would be nearly one hundred years old. Probably dead. For a brief moment she contemplated whether being dead would be a better option than dealing with the anguish she was going through. No. She couldn’t think like that. She needed to move on, just as Betty had done.
Looking down at her hands, she realised she had been fidgeting while she listened. This had not escaped Betty’s attention and the old woman looked at her sternly through her pale watery eyes. ‘You can get over this,’ she said, pulling a weathered hand out from under the blanket and resting it on Kate’s. ‘Do you want him back?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes.’
Kate bowed her head. While she was sure the hurt would go, the bond they had shared was broken and would never be the same again. She didn’t think she could ever forgive.
‘Then you need to forget about him,’ Betty said in her husky voice. ‘This is the next phase of your life. You can make it brighter if you want.’ She paused, catching her breath, and looked at Kate expectantly. The first rays of the morning sunshine beamed through the window, striking the pillows and highlighting her long white hair like a wise and cherished angel.
‘Thank you,’ said Kate. ‘Such wonderful advice, I am grateful.’ Straightening, she edged the visitor’s chair back against the window and resumed her professional bedside manner. ‘I’ll let Margaret know you’re ready to see her as soon as she comes in. Would you like your medication now?’
4
Monday, 2 October
ANGELA DE ROSA ADMIRED her husband Jason from across the kitchen table. He looked so handsome and professional in dark pinstripes; this suit, which he’d bought on his last business trip, fitted him perfectly. She smiled as he buttered two pieces of toast and handed one to their son Dylan.
‘I want Vegemite on it!’ said Dylan. He scowled and pushed the plate away.
‘Here it is, you can do it yourself,’ said Jason firmly. He collected the jar from the pantry beside him, loosened the lid and passed it across. Closing the door carefully, he examined the craftsmanship. The new kitchen was finished and a credit to Angela’s taste in design.
‘I can’t do it!’ Dylan exclaimed, and picked up the knife ready to toss it.
Angela took the knife and placed it back on the table. ‘Yes, you can. You are nearly four,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Let me see you try.’
Dylan snatched the jar and began the task of removing the lid, his little elbows bobbing up and down at the table’s edge as he strained.
Jason leaned back against the sink and took a sip of his coffee, leaving his own toast untouched. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Angela’s warm smile.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just contemplating my assets. There’s no charge to look, is there? I’m a creditor, aren’t I? A secured one?’
A smile formed on his lips. ‘You have preferential standing,’ he reflected after a moment. ‘At this stage.’
‘Well, thank you!’ she laughed. ‘But I thought I had already staked my claim.’
He gave her a sly wink. ‘Did you?’
‘Yes, I made an investment. When do I see my asset again? I’d like a personal inspection.’
Jason watched as his son dipped the knife into the thick black paste and proceeded to spread it all over the plate. ‘Three weeks. So far it’s slightly earlier – on the Friday – but don’t wait up, it will probably be late.’
‘Do you have to travel around much this trip?’ she asked, wiping the kitchen table where the spread had smeared.
‘Maybe, maybe not. It could all be in Sydney this time.’ Looking over, he noticed his wife’s glow had faded and her face now looked concerned. ‘What’s the matter?’
Angela sighed. ‘I can’t believe Kate’s news,’ she said, remembering her friend’s call from the previous evening. ‘Three weeks away reminded me of it. But it’s not three weeks for her, it’s permanent, and that’s such a shock. She will need a lot of support.’
‘She’ll be fine. She’s got you.’
‘Yes, I know. But the loss of your partner, so suddenly like that, that’s something in a whole different league.’
‘She’s a nurse, she’s used to helping others cope.’
‘Maybe … I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye on her. We should make a fuss of her when you get back. Why don’t we invite her over and you can cook your beef goulash.’
‘If you want.’
Angela paused, and a small wrinkle etched its way across her forehead. ‘Did you have any idea about this? Did Matt tell you what he was planning?’