The Patterson Girls (3 page)

‘Have you ordered yet?' she asked.

At the sound of her voice, Abigail and Charlie pulled back from their father and looked up at their older sister.

Charlie shook her head. ‘We were waiting for you.'

Lucinda smiled. ‘Thanks. What do you all want? My shout.'

‘Oh no, we can pay for ourselves,' Charlie protested.

‘Speak for yourself.' Abigail shot Charlie a glare and then smiled sweetly at Lucinda. ‘I'll have pancakes with extra ice-cream please.'

Lucinda rolled her eyes. ‘What kind of lunch is that?'

‘You're not my mother,' Abigail snapped.

Dad flinched as if someone had come along and slapped him on the back.

Charlie saw Lucinda swallow. ‘I never said I was. Fine, have whatever you like. Dad? Charlie? What do you want?'

‘Just a coffee,' Dad said.

‘I'll have the sweet potato quiche, with salad.' Charlie pushed back her chair to stand. ‘But I'll come with you to order.' She let out a deep breath as she and Lucinda weaved their way through the few tables to the front of the café. ‘How's Joe?' she asked as they waited to place their order. ‘It's a pity he couldn't come with you.'

Lucinda smiled tightly. ‘Everyone has to take their turn working Christmas on the mine.'

Which didn't answer Charlie's question but she decided to let it lie. Lucinda likely didn't want to dwell on the fact she was going to spend her first Christmas without her husband since they'd been married.

‘I suppose so,' she said and then glanced ahead at the specials blackboard.

Madeleine Patterson grunted as she retrieved her heavy suitcase from the carousel, yanked out the handle and then started towards customs.
Hello, Adelaide
.

If she had to choose a holiday destination, Adelaide was one of the last places on earth she'd have considered. Meadow Brook—the town she'd grown up in—was the
very
last. Despite the fact that her family owned the local motel, there was nothing holiday-like about the place. Sure, thousands of grey nomads passed through on their journey along the Eyre Highway to or from Western Australia, but why some of them stayed more than a night had always been a mystery to her.

As far as Madeleine was concerned, the most attractive thing about Meadow Brook was its name, which she'd always thought far too pretty for the dry, rugged terrain of the northern Eyre Peninsula, in which the primary industry was agriculture, followed closely by mining and supposedly (although it continued to flummox her) tourism.

No, if she'd chosen to take a holiday her destination would be a resort where she could relax on the beach or a city where she could shop till she dropped, somewhere like Paris or New York, or—if she did come back to Australia—then Sydney or Melbourne. A place where her childhood friends weren't all married with babies, making her wonder if she'd sacrificed too much in order to climb the career ladder.

She sighed. This vacation wasn't about her, it was about Dad.

It had been Lucinda's idea to get them all together for Christmas, and although Madeleine's first instinct had been to say she couldn't get away from work, the guilt and grief had gotten to her. Despite the agony of that long-haul flight and her initial reluctance to come, she now found herself impatient to get through customs and see everyone. The location wouldn't matter, it would be good just to be together at this time of the year. To celebrate Mum and help Dad through this first Christmas alone.

She sniffed and dug into her bag for a tissue, unable to imagine Meadow Brook without her mother. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes and then continued on.

The line through customs moved surprisingly fast and when she got to the front of the queue she slapped her immigration form down on the counter and answered the routine questions, hoping nothing would hold her up. After the officer waved her through, Madeleine all but ran towards the doors that would see her into the arrivals hall.

It felt better than she could possibly have imagined when she spotted the faces of her family in the crowd and even better falling into their arms. There weren't a lot of words exchanged at first but their embraces said more than enough. She wasn't usually one for too much hugging, but this felt right. This coming together, this Christmas, was always going to be difficult but it was something they all needed in order to move on.

‘Finally, all my girls together again,' Dad said, as he let go of her and took a step back to survey his daughters. Madeleine smiled sadly, thinking that there was one key girl missing, but she pushed that thought aside. She didn't need to make a scene in the airport.

She didn't consider herself an emotional person but maybe she was more jet lagged than she thought, because standing here among her three sisters, next to her dad, she felt an overwhelming love for all of them.

‘Right, where's the van?' she asked, tapping her suitcase. ‘I'm in dire need of a shower and a drink.'

‘Lead the way, Dad.' Abigail linked her arm through Madeleine's as Lucinda took the handle of her case and started to walk towards the exit.

‘What on earth have you got in here?' Lucinda asked. ‘How long are you planning to stay?'

Everyone laughed but Madeleine shot her a warning glare. Just because Lucinda dressed like a Perth housewife, didn't mean Madeleine couldn't take pride in her appearance. It wasn't like she could buy anything she forgot on the main street of Meadow Brook, so she'd come prepared for all occasions.

Ignoring her sister, Madeleine addressed Dad as they walked out into the bright and stiflingly hot South Australian afternoon. ‘Thanks for coming to collect us. We could have hired a car.'

‘Nonsense.' Dad shook his head. ‘I've been counting down the days. Besides, I wouldn't want any of you driving after travelling so far.'

Charlie laughed. ‘Melbourne's only an hour's flight away.'

Madeleine yawned. ‘How's the motel? Lots of bookings?'

Dad shrugged as they came to the ticket payment machine. He dug his wallet out of his pocket. ‘It's all right. Not as many guests as we usually have at this time of the year.' He slid the ticket into the machine and then fumbled around looking for change.

‘Here, I'll get this.' Lucinda whipped her purse out of her handbag and fed a twenty dollar note into the machine, which in turn spat her out some coins. She took the returned ticket and handed it to their father.

Dad and Lucinda led the way to where the old Meadow Brook Motel people mover stood tall in the sea of vehicles around it. An ageing Toyota Tarago in faded yellow with the motel's logo and name (also faded) plastered across the sides, it looked a sorry sight. Madeleine thought it was about time Dad upgraded, but now wasn't the time to start discussing such things.

Lucinda rearranged the luggage that was already in the back and then heaved Madeleine's suitcase on top.

‘Careful of Abigail's violin,' Madeleine warned.

‘She didn't bring it,' Lucinda replied, closing the boot with a thunk.

‘What?' Madeleine peered in through the open door at Abigail, who was settling herself on the back seat. ‘Why? Are you sick or something?'

Abigail glowered. ‘What's the big deal? Did you bring a host of pregnant women so you could deliver their babies while you were on holiday?'

Madeleine raised her eyebrows. It wasn't like Abigail to be so snarky. Charlie and Lucinda laughed as they climbed into the car, leaving the passenger seat beside their father for Madeleine. At least she hadn't had to remind them of her travel sickness. ‘Sorry for asking,' she muttered under her breath.

No one said anything more. Seatbelts were clicked into place. Dad started the ignition and then drove out of the airport, heading west as they began the three-and-a-half journey to Meadow Brook.

Chapter Two

Charlie unpacked her few things in the room she used to share with Abigail and then sat down in the middle of the floor to meditate. This was something she did every morning and occasionally at other times of the day when she felt the need to find her inner calm. Almost four hours in the van with Dad, Madeleine, Lucinda and Abigail had definitely created one of those occasions. Her nerves, which she usually thought of as mellow, felt as tight as the strings on Abigail's absent violin.

She'd done her darn best to kickstart the conversation and then keep it going but it was like trying to make banana cake from apples. She'd never been more excited to see the ‘Welcome to Meadow Brook—Home of the Sandhill Dunnart' sign in her life. The sign always made her laugh because she'd never actually seen one of the tiny, grey marsupials that were supposed to live here.

Although the mostly dry, sparse terrain beside the Eyre Highway would have been the same, the journey would have been very different if Mum had still been with them. She'd have grilled them all on their latest love interests and asked if anything exciting had happened at work recently, then filled them in on all the local gossip. Although the town's population was only five hundred, there were always plenty of stories—enough drama, good and bad, to keep a soap opera writer happy for years. Laughter would have filled the van and the miles would have flown by.

But although Charlie had thrown innocuous questions at her sisters—asking each of them in turn about their lives—they'd offered monosyllabic answers before turning back to stare out the window. Dad had been almost as bad, even seeming disinterested when she asked about the motel. She was worried about him. As well as the extra grey hairs and deeper lines around his eyes, he kept drifting off into his own little world. When they were kids he could amuse them for hours with his jokes and silly ideas but he hadn't even cracked a one-liner this afternoon. And he hadn't eaten anything in the six hours they'd been together either, not even a jelly snake from the packet Abigail had passed around. Was he thinking about Mum?

Stupid question, Charlie chastised herself. Annette had been the love of his life. Together since high school, they'd not only married and raised a family but also worked together every day of their adult lives. She thought about Mum constantly, so Dad probably felt as if part of him had died.

Her heart ached at the thought. If only there was some way to help him. They'd already lost one parent, they didn't need to lose him as well. With that thought she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.

Half an hour later Charlie felt a lot better. She stood, tamed her long brown hair into a ponytail and listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen. The banging of cupboard doors and the clanging of pots and pans indicated that her sisters had all emerged from their rooms and were contemplating dinner. Lucinda was staying in the house with Dad and Charlie, while Abigail and Madeleine had taken vacant motel rooms. They'd all shared as children but no one was in a hurry to do so now.

Yet, the motel rooms were sparse—double beds covered with mission brown comforters to match the dull carpet, a small wooden table, two vinyl chairs, a tiny TV, a kettle and a microwave—so Madeleine and Abigail would no doubt spend most of their waking hours in the house.

Charlie left her bedroom and headed down the hallway, her silver bracelets jangling on her wrists as she passed the lounge room on her way to the kitchen. Pausing, she surveyed the room and frowned. It took a moment to realise what was wrong. It was two days before Christmas and the tree that had been in the Patterson family for as long as she could remember wasn't up yet. Had Dad forgotten about it or deliberately chosen not to put it up?

Mum had loved Christmas. Maybe it was just too painful.

‘Where's Dad?' she asked as she joined her sisters in the kitchen. Aside from the fact that they were all grown up, nothing much had changed since when they'd sat in there after school eating snacks and telling Mum about their day. The cupboards were still the same old chipped wood and the benchtops a ghastly shade of orange, which was strangely comforting. Charlie could almost smell the scent of Mum's Chanel perfume wafting around them.

‘Gone to check on the motel,' Madeleine replied, holding up a glass of wine. ‘Do you want one of these?'

‘Sure, thanks.' Charlie pulled out a chair and sat down at the table as her oldest sister poured her a glass identical to those her other sisters nursed.

‘Dad asked if we wanted to have dinner in the restaurant,' Abigail said, twirling her glass between her fingers, ‘but we decided we'd rather eat here. Safe from all the locals coming over to ask how we're coping.'

‘Good idea.' Although secretly Charlie thought it might be less painful than sitting around the table with her broken family and trying to make small talk. She took a sip, hoping the wine might help ease the tension that was again rushing to her head. Maybe it would be a short dinner—Abigail and Madeleine had both come a long way and must be exhausted, not that you could tell. Both of them looked pretty much like they'd just stepped off a Paris catwalk. Lucinda didn't care a lot about fashion but she had the supermodel looks and body as well. Only Charlie had lucked out—boring brown hair, boring brown eyes and a body that was neither fat nor slim, tall or short.

‘Only problem,' Lucinda said, peering into the fridge, ‘is that there's very little here to work with. Dad must be eating most nights in the motel. I've never seen the cupboards so bare.'

Madeleine shrugged from where she was leaning against the kitchen counter. ‘It's a pain in the ass cooking for one, so I don't blame him. I eat out most of the time.'

Lucinda sighed. ‘I suppose so. I'll borrow some ingredients from the motel and tomorrow we'll go shopping.'

Charlie was surprised she didn't comment on Madeleine's American lingo.

‘Yay.' Madeleine lifted her glass in a faux toast. ‘I can hardly wait. Shopping in Meadow Brook.'