Stone Castles (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-three

‘Y
ou were back late last night.'

Pip had let herself into the house the next morning and was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee and working a list of phone numbers, crossing off those she'd already called, when Tracey walked in, still wearing her dressing gown.

‘Was I?' she answered innocently, and then frowned when she noticed how bleary-eyed her friend looked. ‘What happened to you?'

Tracey stood by the sink with the kettle in one hand and a tap in the other, her head on her chest, rolling it to left and right. ‘Chloe's teething. We had a rough night. Which is why I was up at two o'clock and noticed your car still wasn't back.' She put some water in the kettle and snapped it on.

‘How's Chloe now?'

‘Sleeping like a baby, of course. Not a care in the world.' She turned around and arched an eyebrow. ‘So, how was dinner?'

‘I've had better.'

‘Shame. So I guess you had to talk about how disappointing it was until two in the morning, huh? That makes sense.'

Pip smiled. ‘Trace, after we spoke, Luke found something hidden under the Singer. Stuck to the bottom of a drawer.'

‘Really? Show me.'

She pushed the note across the table and Tracey picked it up, her eyes opening wide as she read.

‘There was a bankbook too, in Mum's name, where the money got deposited. Looks like she used it for expenses over the next few years.'

Tracey looked up. ‘Oh my god. Do you think this Colin Armistead could be your real dad?'

Pip frowned. ‘I don't know. Luke think he sounds too old. Maybe it was his son.'

Her friend shook her head and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘I've never heard of anyone from around these parts with that name.'

‘That's what Luke said. I couldn't find any in the local phonebook, and so far I've checked every C Armistead in Australia apart from one I was about to call. I'm going to work my way through the rest of the Armisteads this morning.'

‘How many are there?'

She grimaced. ‘Only about ninety.'

‘You want a hand?'

‘You mean it?'

‘Hey girlfriend, in case you've forgotten, you're heading back to the States the day after tomorrow. If you want to track this guy down before you get on that plane, we'd better get started.'

‘You are the best.'

‘Yeah, that's why I was imagining you doing the dirty with Luke all night.' She looked over, clearly expecting Pip to share the joke, but she was keeping her lips shut and her face blank. ‘You DID do the dirty with Luke! Priscilla Martin, I am shocked!'

‘Hey, I never admitted anything.'

‘You didn't have to. It was written all over your face.' She shook her head. ‘I should have known by that glimmer in your eyes! So are you two back together again? How is that going to work? Oh my god,' she said, looking around for the portable. ‘Where's the phone? I've got to tell Fi. She'll be so excited.'

‘Tracey,' she said, reaching her hand across the table to latch onto her friend's arm. ‘For god's sake, don't tell Fi! We are not “back together” or anything, and if there is
any
glimmer in my eyes it's about finding a clue about who I am.'

‘But you and Luke made love, right?'

‘We had sex, it's a bit different.'

‘How do you do that?' said Tracey throwing her hands into the air. ‘Call it sex, like it's nothing more than taking an aspirin? I don't get that.'

She shrugged. ‘It's just a physical urge. So you fix it. Like taking an aspirin.'

‘But this is
Luke
and he is not just some random guy.'

‘It's lust, Trace. It's just a
physical
urge. We all need to get off somehow.'

‘But Luke? You have history with him.'

‘Trace, you yourself said I was leaving in two days. Nothing's going to change that.'

‘But –'

‘Nothing is going to change that. Now, do you want to help me make some calls?'

Chapter Twenty-four

P
ip had promised herself that she was done with tears, that she wouldn't cry again, and that Gran was in a better place, but it was hard.

It seemed like half the population of the Yorke Peninsula had turned out to farewell Violet Cooper. The funeral parlour chapel was standing room only, and there was still ten minutes to go before the service started. Shelving running around the walls heaved with flowers, bright and beautiful, and the coffin at the front was piled with more. There were so many flowers that the air was sweetly scented with them. Pip gave a wistful smile. Gran would have loved it.

Everyone there, it seemed, wanted the chance to pass on an anecdote or to tell her how much Violet had meant to them. So many people with so many beautiful stories to share. So many people whose lives Gran had touched in one way or another.

With the backdrop of ‘Abide With Me' playing softly on a loop, it was almost overwhelming.

Molly Kernahan was there with a number of staff from the nursing home, and even some of the residents, those who could manage with their walkers or in wheelchairs. She wrapped Pip up in one of her signature hugs and Pip felt the love the woman had for her gran right there.

There was a group of women who'd served alongside Gran in the local Country Women's Association for many long years, creating magic out of toilet rolls and kewpie dolls and raffia, or baking trays and trays of scones and fairy cakes to raise funds for worthy causes.

Even Luke's old English teacher from high school was there. ‘I'm so sorry about your gran, dear,' said Jean Cutting, holding her hand in between her bony and surprisingly strong fingers. ‘But we're all so proud of you. Have you seen much of Luke at all since you've been back?'

‘I do believe he's coming today,' she said, evading the question, and Jean Cutting looked pleased with herself until Adam arrived and wrapped an arm around Pip's shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek like they were best friends.

I really did give him the wrong idea
, Pip thought with a stab of guilt as he introduced her to his mother, who worked at the nursing home too. She listened while Betty Rogers told her about Violet's favourite dessert of crushed up shortbread in custard – how she'd made it specially for her towards the end, when she'd lost interest in just about everything else.

So much love. It was humbling to know how well loved her gran had been, even though she'd been gone, for all intents and purposes, for years.

And yet despite all the love in the room, Pip still felt nervy and on edge. Not because she had to deliver the eulogy. But because the one person she'd been looking for wasn't here.

Surely Luke wouldn't let her down today?

Sally Buxton rushed in and gave Pip a hug. ‘Oh my god, I'm so sorry I'm late. How are you, sweetie?'

‘Okay,' she said. ‘Thanks for coming.' She would have let the other woman get seated but then she remembered. ‘Did Tracey tell you I had a lead about my father?'

Sally blinked. ‘Er, no. No, she didn't. Did you get a name?'

‘Yes. No. Well, we're not sure. But it looks like someone paid Mum off before she married my dad.'

Her eyes opened wide and then kind of vagued out, looking into the middle distance. ‘Really.'

‘And we found a bank book – it looks like someone paid Mum and Gran off to keep quiet about me. So it's exciting. I might even find out while I'm here.'

And Sally smiled thinly as Sam Riordan joined them then to pay his respects, the farmer her father had share-farmed with and who she hadn't seen for years. A widower now, apparently, he was a big burly man with a deep voice and a grip like steel, and he pumped her arm like he was hoping to draw water. ‘Good to see you again, Pipsqueak,' he said, calling her by the childhood nickname Gerald used to call her – a name she'd long forgotten.

She smiled widely, warmed at the memory. ‘Thanks for coming, Sam.'

‘G'day Sally,' he said to the woman standing next to Pip, like he'd only just noticed her.

Sally nodded and blinked.

‘I actually thought I might see you at the CFS Christmas do the other night.'

And Pip felt slightly superfluous when the older woman shook her head and Sam and Sally continued as if she wasn't there. ‘I was too busy.'

‘Ah well, always next time. How about we grab a seat while there's still a couple left?'

And then the funeral director indicated it was time, and Sally sat in the seat Tracey had saved next to Chloe's pram, and Sam squeezed into the seat she'd half planned would go to Luke. Pip took a seat between Tracey and Fi in the front row.

And then the music stopped and the funeral service began.

A few minutes later it was her turn at the lectern. Pip was about to begin the eulogy when a movement caught her eye and she glanced up to see Luke threading his way through the people crowded along the back wall. Their eyes connected and he smiled and her heart gave a little flip. With relief, she told herself, because he had made it.

Nothing more than relief.

And she took a deep breath and began. ‘Violet Eliza May Cooper. Aged ninety years and seven months, four days. Today is truly the end of an era.'

She took them through Gran's life: daughter of a miner who'd married a farmer when the economy of the Yorke Peninsula was moving so rapidly from copper to grain, a woman who'd suffered six miscarriages before bearing her husband their one child, only to lose her husband way too early and then her only daughter, her son-in-law and her grandson.

Her voice broke on the word grandson.

Because it hadn't only been Gran's daughter and son-in-law and grandson.

It had been her mum and dad and little brother.

Damn. She paused and looked up at the ceiling and reminded herself to take a sip of water. Across the rim of her glass, across the room, she saw Luke's creased brow, his lips hitched to one side, but she saw also his nod, willing her on and she felt his encouragement infuse her as she breathed in and found the strength to carry on.

It had been a hard life for Violet, she continued. A tough life filled with more grief than any one person should bear. But Gran had stoically taken it in her stride as people did in those days because that's the type of person she was raised to be and that's how people were made out here.

But it had been a rich life too. A life filled with love, despite the tragedies that had befallen her.

Because of the friends she had in the community and the activities she'd undertaken.

Pip talked about how blessed she was to be her granddaughter – how Gran had taught her to cook fairy cakes on a wood stove and how, as a young child, she'd watched her make butter from cream she'd separated from milk straight from the cow she'd milked herself, the way she'd always done.

And how her gran had taught her to sew first a straight line and then create something beautiful on a treadle sewing machine that her mum before her – her great grandmother – had bought in the nineteen-twenties when Gran was just a baby herself.

Finally she talked about her disease, and how unfair it was that Gran had spent the last years of her life never recognising a familiar face. After the life she'd led, she had deserved better, but thankfully she'd been surrounded by love and caring support for as long as she'd needed.

She misted up about then, but somehow managed to finish by saying how lucky they had all been to know Violet. Then she retook her place between Fi and Tracey and they squeezed her hands and Trace whispered, ‘Not a dry eye in the house.' And Pip had to take her friend's word for it, because she'd been too blinded with tears for the last few minutes to see anything further than her notes.

There was tea and biscuits after the service and another hour flashed by in a whirl of conversation and condolences before the cortege moved off to the cemetery.

The sun shone down hot and harsh, the air was still and the flies sticky. The crowd had thinned only a little for the interment but Luke somehow found the space to get near enough that his hand brushed hers as they walked to the graveside. It was the most fleeting of touches – anyone watching would think it so brief as to be accidental – but it made her skin tingle and sent warmth blooming inside. She ached for him to touch her again. ‘How're you doing?' he asked.

She smiled up at him. ‘Getting there. Can we talk later?'

‘Sure. Sorry I was late. Truck broke down.'

‘Okay. Later.'

He smiled and gave her shoulders a squeeze and she felt her insides light up. It was good having him here. He was solid. Real. And she needed both those attributes today, as she said a final farewell to Gran, and where the possibility of learning the identity of her real father shimmered in the air like the heat haze in the distance.

It was a big day with the potential to get even bigger.

That was why her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest.

No other reason.

Finally the short graveside ceremony was over, the last floral tribute thrown, the last song played, and everyone repaired to the hotel for a drink in celebration of Violet's life. Adam Rogers worked his way through the crowd towards her.

‘Great eulogy,' he said. ‘And you're looking good, as usual, Pip.'

She smiled. She was wearing the same blue dress she'd worn to the christening, figuring it hardly mattered if she wore it again, though after Sunday it and her shoes had needed a decent clean. ‘Thank you.' He looked pretty good too, but she wasn't about to tell him that. No more flirting. It wasn't fair. She'd been using him as a human shield to protect herself from Luke, telling herself the attention was nice, but enough was enough.

‘So,' he continued, ‘when are we going to get together for that drink?'

‘What's that in your hand?' she said looking at his glass. ‘A rabbit?'

He quirked up one side of his mouth, revealing a dimple. ‘No, I meant with just the two of us. You and me.'

‘Look, Adam, I'm sorry. It would only be wasting your time.'

‘You're not interested.'

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Is it Luke?'

Yes and no.
Concentrate on the no.

‘Like I said, I'm going home in two days.'

Adam sighed. ‘So it is Luke. Thought as much.'

‘What?' She replayed the conversation over in her head. What part of ‘I'm going home in two days' sounded like ‘it's Luke'?

‘I saw the way you looked at him over at the cemetery.' He shrugged. ‘Actually thought I had a chance with you this time too. I guess Prince Charming missed his chance with Cinderella on Sunday, eh, getting called out like that?'

She laughed uncomfortably and shook her head. Surely he was reading too much into a few stray glances. ‘That's really not how it is. It's just I'm going back to New York Friday, that's all.'

‘Well, give my regards to your cute flatmate when you get home. The one in the blanket and the hat.'

‘Carmen,' Pip asked, having a hard time keeping up. ‘I'll give her your number if you like. You can pass on your regards yourself.'

‘Yeah?' he said, already putting his beer down and reaching for a pen to write it down on a coaster. ‘I'll do that.'

From the other side of the bar, Luke watched Pip and Adam. He was in a group of three or four guys he knew from his footy days – he wasn't paying attention – and every now and then they'd say something and he'd nod or grunt but most of the time he'd say nothing and he was pretty sure they'd forgotten he was even here. Which was good, because now he could concentrate on Pip.

Adam was still standing too close for his liking, but at least he wasn't draping his arm around her like he had on Sunday. And she wasn't smiling up at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread either.

Interesting.

Mind you, if Adam did slip his arm around her shoulders, what the hell could he do about it anyway? It wasn't like he could march over and tell him to get his hands off. It wasn't like they were together.

It was just sex.
Just sex.
Maybe if he kept telling himself that he'd believe it.

Yeah, right. He downed the rest of his beer. How the hell was that supposed to work?

‘You're here, then,' said Jean Cutting, shouldering into the circle so that she was next to him, a glass of moscato in one hand, a bite-sized sausage roll wearing a dollop of tomato sauce in the other.

‘I'm here,' he agreed, dragging his eyes away from the scene on the other side of the bar where Adam was busy writing something down. Pip's phone number? Her address in New York? What else could he be writing down? ‘Wouldn't be right not to pay my respects.'

‘Oh yes. Dear old Vi.' Jean took a sip of her wine and looked in the direction he'd been staring. ‘Still, must be nice to catch up with Pip. You two must have a lot of things to discuss. Old times. Good times.' Luke looked around, expecting to see Sheila Ferguson with her shopping trolley, preparing to block his way out and make it a tag team match.

‘We've chatted some, sure.' That was all she was getting.

‘You think there's any chance Pip will stay home for good this time?'

Finally a question where he didn't have to beat about the bush. ‘Nope. Not a one.'

‘Oh, such a shame. You two used to be such good friends. We used to think –'

‘Where did you find that sausage roll, Mrs Cutting? I'm starving.'

‘Just over on the buffet, Luke,' she said, her sausage roll pointing the way. ‘And do call me Jean.'

It was after seven by the time everyone filtered away and they made it back to the farm, Chloe cranky and fretful after another long day out, and Tracey and Pip tired after sharing so many memories.

Craig was wearing his apron and was busy turning fish fingers under the smoking grill for his and the boys' dinner. He looked up with a smile when the women came in. He blinked, the smile getting tangled up in a frown when Luke followed them. He eyed them suspiciously. ‘What gives?'