She was a fascinating work in progress, the widowed Mrs. Stanford. When Frederick had told him she and Alex were moving back to Australia to be with family, he hadn’t given it much thought. His life was settled and he had no interest in anyone else’s business unless it was a to do with observing them for his research. But over a gin and tonic one night, Frederick had let down his guard and spoken more than he probably should have.
He’d stood with a glass in his hand by the window and his forehead creased with lines. “I worry about her, Hamish. She’s been through so much lately. Bad enough her husband died the way he did because nobody a chance to say goodbye and I know that kills her.” His throat worked with the emotions. He coughed and continued. “Far too young of course, but to go that way, thinking about it logically, it was probably for the best he didn’t linger. I look back on it now and wonder what Billie would have done if he’d only had a stroke. Would he have been left a vegetable or would he be fine? There’s no way to tell and it’s silly to torture myself, but I can’t help it. Makes me understand Billie better though. Poor girl was beside herself.” He frowned into his drink. “You should have seen her. Hysterical one day and had it together the next. So hard to keep up with her moods, much worse than when she was a teenager. The fights between her and Lucy. It was hard.”
“Lots of children, especially girls, struggle when they’re teenagers.”
“Yes, I understand that but Billie was always hard headed.” Frederick put his glass down and rubbed the spot between his eyes. “I think that was the beginning of her wanting to leave home actually. To say things were strained between them after that is an understatement. Anyway, when we went over after the funeral we expected some sort of emotionally charged episodes, but it was as though she no longer had the will to live. She’d made mistakes at work and that didn’t reflected well on her. Lucy thought we should try to see if she’d move back for a new start. Put the past behind us. We could hardly ignore the poor girl, she’s our daughter, no matter what happened. We had Alex to think of as well, of course.”
“That’s terrible. What of her son? How exactly is he coping?” Hamish crossed his legs and flicked at the thinning seam of his favourite trousers. It wouldn’t be long before he had to relegate them to the bin, a thought that saddened him. He much preferred his old comfortable clothes, much like he preferred his old comfortable friends. Breaking in new ones seemed too hard some days.
“Seems okay if not a little subdued. We haven’t had an awful lot to do with him, you understand. I mean, we’ve had holidays to America, but it’s not quite as good as having them living in the same country, which is a great shame all round. Somewhat strained some of the time but Stephen made sure we were made welcome whenever we visited. Made all the worse for the simple fact that we never made it there in time for the funeral. We were busy touring England and they couldn’t get in touch with us at the time. The telegram was waiting for us when we got home.” He sipped his drink and stepped over to put the glass down on the sideboard. “Poor Lucy never seemed to recover from Billie telling us she wasn’t returning to Sydney from her travels after she finished school and not having very much contact with her over the years. It’s been hard knowing our girl was deliberately keeping us out of her life and not making the funeral, well …” He coughed again and Hamish glanced at his normally staid friend, choosing to ignore the sheen of tears in the lawyer’s eyes. “We wanted her to come home for a time, let us take care of her, show some family support. Perhaps by giving her a break and helping with Alex, it might help her recover.”
“They say change is as good as a holiday and I’m sure it can’t hurt.” Hamish scanned the perfectly neat sitting room, the family photo sitting on the baby grand piano of the family in question. Their daughter grinned into the eyes of her handsome husband, the bubbly and happy type - not a bit like the sad tortured woman Frederick had described to him. Her teenage son was a perfect blend of the two of them in looks with more than a passing similarity to his grandmother. “When are you expecting them?” He swilled the slice of lemon around in his glass, the acidic citrus aroma reaching his nose before he took another sip.
“Another sticking point and cause for argument. We spoke to her and suggested they come for Christmas this year. Gave her time to think about it and make plans. Clear out their apartment and make the move.” He leaned forward with his arms resting on his knees. “Of course Billie being Billie, refused. Said they’d be here when she was ready and not before which is a shame because Alex could have started school at the beginning of the year.” He glanced at the photo on the piano then back at Hamish. “You’ve had plenty of
