The last twenty-four hours had been huge. Who could he talk about it with?
They were approaching a town. Sure enough, reception bars appeared on his cellphone. He rang Manhattan. Elinor. She answered on the first ring.
‘What’s wrong?’ She sounded breathless and he realised it was one in the morning back home. Night-time.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve woken you.’
‘Oh, Mr McMaster, it’s you,’ she said. ‘No, I was just stuffing stockings, so you didn’t wake me. I’m glad you rang. I have such good news.’
‘You do?’
‘The children… Their mother’s finally agreed to their adoption. The agency contacted me this morning. There’s a couple… They lost their children in a car accident five years ago and they so want a family. They sound lovely and there’s grandmas and grandpas; everything these children most need. So tomorrow, after Christmas lunch, they’re coming to visit. It’s only first contact, but oh, they sound nice. These children so need a family.’
‘They do,’ he said and somehow he managed to keep his voice from sounding bereft. Bereft? Of all the stupid sensations…
And Elinor heard it-he knew she did. ‘There’s so many needy children out there,’ she said, her voice growing sombre. ‘You know that. There’s always more to be looked after.’
And he heard her pain as well. She’d be giving up these children and moving on. ‘Oh, Elinor.’ She loved with all her heart. You didn’t love without hurting. Where had he learned that? Was he just starting?
‘Yeah, it hurts,’ she said across his thoughts, and he could almost see her steeling herself. ‘But, if you don’t love, then you might as well stop living. This family live right nearby so we’ll see each other in the park. So how about you? Will we see you tomorrow? I mean, today?’
‘My flight won’t get in until late.’
‘Oh, the children will be disappointed,’ she said, but in a tone that said not too disappointed; they were about to meet their new mommy and daddy. What more did children need for Christmas?
‘So you’ll be flying all Christmas,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘There’s no need to be sorry,’ he said, startled.
‘Well, there is,’ she said, and she sounded truly concerned. ‘It’s time you stayed put. I know you’re important and I know you’re busy but you have a good heart, Mr McMaster, and it’s time you found somewhere to park it. I’ve done my share of parking in my time, but have you? You need to find somewhere you can leave it for good.’
The train had streamed through the town and out the other side. Reception was starting to break up. He could barely hear.
Maybe it was just as well, William thought. What sort of advice was this? He wished her Merry Christmas, but he didn’t hear a response. He clicked off his phone and stared out of the window. Trying not to replay her words.
‘Bad news?’ the young mother asked.
‘I…no. Good news, really.’
‘You don’t look like it was good news.’
‘It’s okay.’
He wanted to tell her about it. Only…if he told her…how could he make it sound like good news? She’d guess how he felt, he thought, as Elinor had guessed. As Meg would guess?
He wanted to tell Meg.
Such a thing wasn’t for him. For a McMaster to…snuggle…Unthinkable.
He stared out at the sparse Australian landscape, so unlike Manhattan, and he thought of his family-the McMaster dynasty. Damaged people all. Deeply unhappy. Poisoned by wealth and by social expectations. Unhappy unions had created unhappy children, and on it went, for generation after generation, spreading outward.
How could he ask someone to join such a family?
He couldn’t. He’d sworn he never would. But, if not…
The thought came from nowhere, and it started as a jumble. A Christmas tree with decorations from childhood. Letty’s mango trifle. Cows and dogs. Gumboots parked at the back door. Meg’s laughter…
Crazy Santa legs. Scott amid a jumble of Mini parts. The feel of Meg against him in the emergency room.
This was a family so unlike his own it was unbelievable, and the jumbled thought unravelled, settled and finally left a clear thought that was amazing.
If his family was unworkable…
Maybe he could join another?
The conductor was coming through now, checking tickets and, before he could take the thought any further, he found himself asking, ‘Is there another train tonight?’
‘To where?’
‘To where I got on.’
‘To Tandaroit? You have to be joking. Once a day to Tandaroit. Next train leaves tomorrow night from Melbourne.’
‘Do you want to go back?’ the woman across the way asked as the conductor moved on.
‘Maybe,’ William said, feeling dazed.
‘To the girl you were kissing on the station?’
And there it was, front and centre. The girl he’d been kissing on the station.
‘Who is she?’ the woman asked and he managed a smile.
‘She was Miss Jardine,’ he said softly. ‘But now…her name is Meg.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
MEG liked Christmas night, or she always had. Christmas was huge, busy, noisy, fun, and it left her happy. Even the first appalling Christmas after the accident, she and Letty had managed to make it fun and she’d slept that night feeling just a little bit optimistic about the future.
So why wasn’t she feeling optimistic now?
Kerrie stayed and helped with the milking while Letty and Scott cleaned up inside and minded the children. After tea, they loaded the sleeping children into Kerrie’s car and bade them goodnight. Kerrie drove off and Meg found herself feeling jealous. Kerrie would be snuggling the children into bed.
Um… Kerrie was a struggling single mother who worked herself raw. Was she jealous because she had babies?
Was she jealous of what they represented?
Scott and Letty went to bed, tired and happy after what they decreed had been an awesome Christmas. ‘We should invite William every year,’ Scott said sleepily and Meg felt even more bereft.
The dogs had eaten too many leftovers. They were asleep; useless as company.
She went across to the home paddock to talk to Millicent, but Millicent was snoozing as well.
She walked back to the house, kicking stones, disconsolate. Santa was still waving back and forth in his chimney.
‘I wonder if I can shoot him down with one of the bazookas?’ she asked herself but she couldn’t dredge up a smile.
She didn’t want to smile. She wanted to wallow.
She climbed into her pyjamas and went to bed. She thumped her pillows for a while, then gave up and headed back into the kitchen to pour herself the last of the eggnog. She stared into its depths and then carefully tipped it down the sink.
‘Let’s not drown our sorrows here,’ she told herself. ‘We need to be nice and sober to read the Job Vacancy ads tomorrow.’
She sniffed. ‘Ooh, who’s maudlin? And I haven’t even drunk my eggnog.’
