“Thank goodness you’ve come home. I’ve been beside myself, Wilz.”
“Oh, darling Gertie. Whatever is the matter?” Her afternoon had gone so well, she’d achieved everything she’d planned and was dying for a long hot soak in the bath. “You look positively frazzled.” She climbed out of the truck and slammed the door, hooking her hand through her sister’s arm guiding Gertie through the house to the staircase and up toward their bedroom.
“Papa’s been frightful this afternoon. He made me promise not to go to Sydney with you. He thinks I won’t come back.”
“Well you won’t, will you? At least I thought that was the plan.” She sat down on the bed and undid the laces on her boots, kicking them off. Next came her watch and her cardigan followed by her blouse and trousers. She strode into the bathroom in her underwear, twisted on the taps and watched the water gurgle out of the pipes and begin filling the claw-foot tub.
Gertie’s voice came from the doorway behind her. “I wondered if I should try to hold out until my birthday.”
“Why?” She peered over her shoulder. “You’ll be in Sydney before then. I don’t see the point, darling. You may as well stay and join up while we’re there. Why bother coming back here for a week? Doesn’t make sense to me.”
“I know it’s silly, but I don’t want to go against Papa’s wishes. And once I’m twenty-one I’m an adult and it’s not his decision.”
“Did you tell him this?” Wilz picked up a bottle of bath oil and let it trickle under the running water, the smell of cottage primroses wafting in the steam.
“Yes. That’s when Carter had to go and get Mr. Wilkes. Papa lost his temper totally. It was horrible.”
“But he’s calm now?”
“Yes. Mrs. Hughes got a call from Ernest to say he’d be here for dinner, which in turn gave Papa something else to think about. Thank goodness for Cousin Ernest.”
“Yes. Thank goodness indeed.” She frowned at her little sister. “Off with you now. I need a soak before dinner. I don’t need to face Papa or Ernest smelling like horses, do I?”
“Of course not. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Gertrude closed the bedroom door and left her alone. At last! She stripped off her underwear and dipped a toe in the water, testing the temperature. She almost sighed in bliss and lowered her body into the fragrant bubbles then lay back, her head on the edge of the tub, while the water rose up over her body.
She closed her eyes. By the time the water cooled, she’d be smelling sweeter than Mama’s rose garden. Then she’d have to go and face Papa, sort him out once again.
Ignoring the prospect, she concentrated on last night in the summerhouse. It was the only thing that kept her sane, the love of the man who was her soul mate and the life they planned together. It made all the fuss she put up with worthwhile. Every cloud has a silver lining or so the story went. Hers was the future, a future without Papa dictating to her, treating her like an unpaid servant at his beck and call.
Bother him for being so sick. He couldn’t help it, it was the price he paid for his efforts in the war. But he’d become so much more difficult of late. Mama was an angel looking after him with all of the issues he had, some never mentioned for fear of an all-out breakdown. She would have been saddened by how much his health had deteriorated since her death.
This wasn’t helping her relax at all. She breathed in the perfume from her bath oil and sighed. Tonight after dinner she would go to the summerhouse again. Feel his body next to hers as they made plans for their future. It brought a smile to her face and she drifted away, her body weightless in the tub.
An image of a teenage boy flitted through her mind. Blond and carefree, he ran down the street toward her calling out, his happiness contagious. She tilted her head, listening to him. His voice was familiar but she couldn’t place him. Had they met somewhere? She couldn’t remember so she waited for him to reach her so she could ask him.
He never made it. Only meters from her, he fell into a heap on the path. She tried to move to help him, but her feet were stuck, she couldn’t move.
Her chest tightened and she searched around for someone to help. The streets were deserted. Streets she didn’t recognise. Busy streets with small houses built close together, on top of one another. There was a familiar vibe about the place, but what it was, she couldn’t tell.
“Billie, what are you doing to him? He’s your son, for goodness sake. Help him.”
The man stood to one side, just out of reach, beseeching her to move. She knew him, had loved him, but she was confused.
“He’s your son. For God’s sake, do something before it’s too late.” The man faded and disappeared. She stood alone on the wet sidewalk watching the boy who was her son lie still in front of her. She rubbed her hands over her face, feeling cool moisture.
Her mind felt fogged down with memories that didn’t belong to her. Was this how Papa felt when he had one of his turns? No wonder Mama was always so tired after a bad day. Her body ached with fatigue and she wanted to sleep it off. She was too confused to try to work out what had happened.
The thunder rumbled in the night sky, lightning cracked and the bathroom filled with a flash of brightness jolting her from a deep slumber. She flailed in the water, splashing it over the edge as she tried to gather her wits. Her face went under, arms and legs kicked in response. She pushed up, her screams stuck in her throat as she broke the surface. She could have sworn she’d been
