my cheeks.
‘You know it wasn’t my choice to return to Australia. For crying out loud, James, you told me to go. You father told me you said I had to go,’ I insisted.
‘What do you mean I told you? I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous. My father certainly didn’t tell me anything. I only spoke to him about business before I got back and found you gone,’ he hissed, ashen-faced. He jammed the poker back into its holder.
I jumped to my feet, sending the chair crashing onto its back.
‘Your parents arranged for my ticket to be updated and marched me to the airport. If they could have put me in handcuffs, they would have. I didn’t bloody dream it, you know! They said you would follow me to Australia.’
Old enough to be grandparents, we confronted each other, hands clenched like bare-knuckle fighters. Our anger rendered us shell-shocked. He picked up the chair, thumped it in place and charged back behind his desk where he sat staring silently at me as though I was an alien. His colour was returning, but his expression remained grim. ‘Very well. Let’s hear your version of what happened that day.’
I tried to speak, but my mouth was too dry. He reached over and poured more water into my glass. I sat straight backed, notifying James I wouldn’t tolerate his bullying. Outwardly calm, I recounted the events of that terrible day, describing how his parents behaved and how they packed me back to Australia. I talked about finding work in Townsville before buying a cottage on Masters Island.
‘They grabbed the opportunity to get rid of me. You were away, the phone in the house out of order and I was too ill to cope with anything.’ I related my efforts to contact him, groped for my handbag and fished out the letters which had been returned to me twenty-six years previously.
He took them from me and slowly opened the top one, to read a few lines in shocked silence. Then he shuffled through the others. Not Known At This Address, Return To Sender All marked with the same message in his mother’s handwriting. ‘My God, El. The wasted years … what’s been done to us?’ His face twisted in horror and our shared pain mirrored in each other’s eyes. ‘But why did you let my parents intimidate you and fool you into believing I would do such a thing? I know you were sick, but why did you listen to them? I loved you, Eloise. I would have welcomed our child.’
‘Because I was so damn sick I couldn’t cope with anything, let alone two horrible—’ I pulled myself up, realising that I couldn’t really call those two excrescences “horrible” to their son, who might actually love them.
He blinked. ‘Yes, well you’re a mature woman now.’ He took a deep breath and wiped his hand slowly over his jaw. ‘There was never any mention of a baby. My parents and Jemima swore you were two-timing me swore you left with another man. A John Faulkner.’
Anger licked my insides into a furnace. ‘I’ve never heard of a John Faulkner, then or now.’ I took a sip of much-needed water.
‘You know, it always seemed too good to be true that an ordinary girl like me could attract and keep the love of a man like you. You’ve enjoyed the best of upbringing, English public schools and lots of money–the advantages of class. You had your pick of beautiful, well-educated women, while I was the low-class daughter of an Australian small-crops farmer. Still am. And there’s nothing like the English class system for snobbery, especially all those years ago. All they thought about, and probably still do, is money, property and maintaining the stud book. Woe betide anyone who tries to get inside. Love needn’t enter into the equation.’ I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my tone.
‘Did I ever give you cause to feel that way?’
‘No you didn’t,’ I admitted, ‘but your parents, many of their friends and some of yours did, especially your cousin Jemima. I tried to tell you how they laughed behind my back,
‘You know it wasn’t my choice to return to Australia. For crying out loud, James, you told me to go. You father told me you said I had to go,’ I insisted.
‘What do you mean I told you? I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous. My father certainly didn’t tell me anything. I only spoke to him about business before I got back and found you gone,’ he hissed, ashen-faced. He jammed the poker back into its holder.
I jumped to my feet, sending the chair crashing onto its back.
‘Your parents arranged for my ticket to be updated and marched me to the airport. If they could have put me in handcuffs, they would have. I didn’t bloody dream it, you know! They said you would follow me to Australia.’
Old enough to be grandparents, we confronted each other, hands clenched like bare-knuckle fighters. Our anger rendered us shell-shocked. He picked up the chair, thumped it in place and charged back behind his desk where he sat staring silently at me as though I was an alien. His colour was returning, but his expression remained grim. ‘Very well. Let’s hear your version of what happened that day.’
I tried to speak, but my mouth was too dry. He reached over and poured more water into my glass. I sat straight backed, notifying James I wouldn’t tolerate his bullying. Outwardly calm, I recounted the events of that terrible day, describing how his parents behaved and how they packed me back to Australia. I talked about finding work in Townsville before buying a cottage on Masters Island.
‘They grabbed the opportunity to get rid of me. You were away, the phone in the house out of order and I was too ill to cope with anything.’ I related my efforts to contact him, groped for my handbag and fished out the letters which had been returned to me twenty-six years previously.
He took them from me and slowly opened the top one, to read a few lines in shocked silence. Then he shuffled through the others. Not Known At This Address, Return To Sender All marked with the same message in his mother’s handwriting. ‘My God, El. The wasted years … what’s been done to us?’ His face twisted in horror and our shared pain mirrored in each other’s eyes. ‘But why did you let my parents intimidate you and fool you into believing I would do such a thing? I know you were sick, but why did you listen to them? I loved you, Eloise. I would have welcomed our child.’
‘Because I was so damn sick I couldn’t cope with anything, let alone two horrible—’ I pulled myself up, realising that I couldn’t really call those two excrescences “horrible” to their son, who might actually love them.
He blinked. ‘Yes, well you’re a mature woman now.’ He took a deep breath and wiped his hand slowly over his jaw. ‘There was never any mention of a baby. My parents and Jemima swore you were two-timing me swore you left with another man. A John Faulkner.’
Anger licked my insides into a furnace. ‘I’ve never heard of a John Faulkner, then or now.’ I took a sip of much-needed water.
‘You know, it always seemed too good to be true that an ordinary girl like me could attract and keep the love of a man like you. You’ve enjoyed the best of upbringing, English public schools and lots of money–the advantages of class. You had your pick of beautiful, well-educated women, while I was the low-class daughter of an Australian small-crops farmer. Still am. And there’s nothing like the English class system for snobbery, especially all those years ago. All they thought about, and probably still do, is money, property and maintaining the stud book. Woe betide anyone who tries to get inside. Love needn’t enter into the equation.’ I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my tone.
‘Did I ever give you cause to feel that way?’
‘No you didn’t,’ I admitted, ‘but your parents, many of their friends and some of yours did, especially your cousin Jemima. I tried to tell you how they laughed behind my back,
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