Wildflower Ridge Page 4

  Penny balked as Tim walked towards her, but Diana wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘Get over yourself. Bed! Now.’

  She kept herself as aloof as possible when Tim picked her up. He ducked to avoid the hand-painted ‘welcome home’ banner and carried her quietly inside.

  Penny awoke to a musical conversation between warbling magpies and travelling galahs. The unfamiliar sound was disorientating, so different from the cawing seagulls that lorded over St Kilda.

  Must be just on sunrise, she thought, her head groggy with sleep. She blinked at the golden light illuminating the curtain edges, and rolled onto her left side. She gasped as she caught sight of the digital clock.

  Is it 9.38 a.m.? Have I slept for that long? Penny sat bolt upright. A pounding in her head confirmed she had gone a long time without any pain relief.

  She pushed back the printed Holly Hobbie sheets and eased herself onto the edge of the single mattress. A matching bed on the opposite side of the room, which had once been Angie’s, was laid out with a selection of supplies, including a fluffy pink dressing-gown. Diana’s other touches were evident in the room too—a vase of roses and a bottle of water.

  Good old Diana. She remembered with a shudder how her older sister had ordered her to bed in the same tone she used with her four-year-old twins. A flush spread over Penny’s cheeks. Tim had carried her like a kelpie who had rolled in a dead sheep’s carcass, only drawing her close to navigate the narrow staircase. He had resumed his rigid stance when they emerged onto the landing, had lowered her to the bed with an air of clinical detachment and then apologised for her broken figurines.

  An urge to rush back to the city grabbed her—the same feeling that had washed over her in the final months of high school. The walls had crept in closer and closer, until the day she had packed her suitcase and waved her family goodbye. Penny looked around the room that had seemed so big as a child. The framed photographs on the dressing table were unchanged and the posters remained stubbornly Blu-Tacked to the walls. She tugged at the waistline of her pyjama pants, ignoring the faded stares of Heath Ledger and Matt Damon as she rubbed her sore hip. She shuffled past the trio of matching black suitcases and over a pile of woven baskets, and located her handbag. A box of anti-inflammatories lay on top of the phone chargers, laptop charger and iPad mini. Penny downed three tablets at once and shrugged her arms into the dressing-gown. The clean, familiar scent of her mother’s fabric softener enveloped her.

  Dogs barked. Gravel crunched. Two car doors slammed and the back door creaked open. Voices floated up from the staircase, followed by the sound of water running, crockery being pulled from cupboards and a radio burbling to life. It felt like she’d just rewound the clock fifteen years.

  Eight

  Tim reached across the kitchen bench and turned on the radio, filling the room with banjos and crooning.

  ‘A decent kip is just what Penny needs. Even if she won’t admit it, she’s as crook as a dog. Being home will do her a world of good,’ said Angus, nodding at him from across the island bench.

  Tim stirred sugar into his coffee, comparing the exhausted Penny from yesterday with the teenager he had once cared about. There was no denying it; Penny was still smoking hot, but her tiny frame had been ravaged by whatever virus she’d contracted. Now she was a pale imitation of the vibrant redhead from high school. He shook away the memory, aware Angus was awaiting a response.

  ‘Won’t argue with you, Angus. She looks terrible.’

  Angus opened the fridge door and lifted the glass dome off an ornate cake. A caramel macaroon dropped from the cluster of chocolate decorations on top of the masterpiece. It looked like something that should be cut into at a wedding reception, not a weekday smoko.

  ‘You sure Angie’s going to be happy about you hacking into that?’ Tim asked as Angus reached for the carving knife.

  ‘The moment’s passed. It was supposed to be a welcome home cake for Penny, but she was fast asleep before we’d even unloaded all her luggage. No sense letting it go stale. Angie said she’ll bake something new for Sunday night’s dinner.’

  Angus cut a generous slab, then pushed the rich mud cake in Tim’s direction. Angie lived half an hour away and she usually called in after work, not in the middle of the day, but Tim couldn’t help but glance at the back door as he hesitantly accepted the plate.

  ‘Still don’t want to be in your shoes when she discovers you’ve cut into it.’

  ‘Waste not, want not,’ said Angus, lifting the cake to his mouth with a grin.

  Tim scooped up his piece; the heady chocolate scent followed by a rich, velvety taste. Hell, yeah.

  ‘Annabel passed down her famous cooking skills, didn’t she? Don’t understand why you’re not the size of a house, Angus.’

  Angus grinned again, pressing his lips closed to stop the mouthful of cake escaping. The alarm on Tim’s watch beeped.

  ‘I’d better head off. Eddie’s bus will be cruising past the driveway in a sec. He right to tag along again this arvo?’

  Angus nodded, reached for the knife and cut a third slice of cake.

  ‘Course. You don’t even have to ask.’

  Tim nodded at Angus. Angus had accepted Eddie as part of the bargain and waved away their father’s sins with humbling kindness. Not for the first time, Tim wondered how he’d got lucky enough to find a job with Angus McIntyre when no one else in town had wanted anything to do with the Patterson boys.

  Penny washed her face and reached for the soft towel, inhaling the same scent of washing powder that infused the dressing-gown, the bedsheets and pillowslips. She sighed at her reflection in the mirror. Angus had brought her lunch and dinner in bed yesterday, but she knew she couldn’t hide out in the bedroom for her entire stay. Several familiar voices floated up from the kitchen below. One in particular stood out, prompting her to change out of her pyjamas and into jeans and a soft green knit that set off her complexion.

  It’s been years since I cared for Tim Patterson’s opinion, and I’m certainly not going to let it bother me now. I’m not here to impress anyone.

  But a sense of personal pride hounded her as she worked her way through her morning beauty routine. Her toothbrush came away pink and she flossed with more restraint. Next came toner, eye cream over the bags under her eyes that hadn’t budged since Christmas, moisturiser and a light application of make-up. She stacked the containers in the top drawer, feeling calmer when each bottle was ordered by height, labels turned to the front, like a beauty store counter.

  Downstairs, she found Diana sitting around the table with Tim and Angus, just as she’d suspected. The twins and Eddie glanced up from a game of marbles. Leo cooed at her from his high chair, waving a soggy rusk stick in her direction.

  ‘Hi, Aunty Penny,’ chorused the twins.

  ‘Hi, Aunty Penny,’ followed Eddie. ‘Marbles, marbles, marbles.’ Eddie clinked the glass balls together gleefully and they returned to their game. Penny couldn’t help but smile, her attention flickering to Tim, who gave no indication of having heard the ‘aunty’ part of his brother’s comment.

  Diana pushed her chair back and hugged Penny to her chest, sending a series of shockwaves through Penny’s aching joints. She winced, prompting Diana to step away and assess her at arm’s length. Looking closely, Penny saw the streaks of grey in her sister’s hair, the laughter lines that had merged into wrinkles either side of her kind eyes.

  ‘The country air’s already working its magic, I can tell.’ Diana moved to the bench and filled the kettle as Penny pulled out a chair.

  ‘G’day, love. Glad you got a decent rest.’ Angus nodded from behind his newspaper, sipping tea.

  ‘Tim.’

  ‘Mac.’

  Penny accepted tea in a mug that proclaimed ‘Cydectin: kills more worms’ and a pre-milked bowl of Weet-Bix from Diana. It was a far cry from the breakfast she usually ate and she almost laughed her oldest sister’s mother-hen act, as if she considered Penny yet another child to w
hisk under her wing. But one look at Diana’s determined face and Penny knew it wasn’t worth arguing.

  ‘You’d better hoe that down, Penny. Chop, chop. I’ve made you an appointment for Dr Sinclair at 11 a.m.’

  Penny spluttered, pieces of soggy Weet-Bix flying across the table.

  ‘What? I’ve already had a gutful of doctors this last week.’

  ‘But not a local doctor. Not one who knows our whole family history inside and out,’ answered Diana, her arms folded across her chest.

  Penny looked to Angus for support. ‘Really?’

  He averted his gaze. ‘Yep, no use arguing, love. We’re only looking out for you,’ said Angus, keeping his attention fixed on the newspaper.

  Penny plucked at the fine wool knit, suddenly too warm.

  ‘What if I’d still been sleeping at 11 a.m.?’

  ‘Then I would have rescheduled. But I’ve heard enough about your 5 a.m. gym sessions to know you’re unable to sleep past sunrise at the best of times. I factored in a little leeway given your illness and gave you a day’s grace, but I knew you’d be up relatively early.’

  A snicker of laughter came from the far end of the table and Penny’s eyes narrowed at Tim. It was one thing to be railroaded by your big sister, but another thing to have someone else find amusement in it.

  ‘All right, but only because Dr Sinclair might agree this whole ten-week thing is complete overkill.’

  Diana climbed back into the driver’s seat and dusted her hands on her denim skirt.

  ‘Well, that’s the kids settled with Pete. Hopefully they don’t tear the place to pieces while we’re at the doctor’s.’

  Penny shook her head, unconvinced. The drive into town had been manic. Trying to appease Leo and entertain the twins with nursery rhymes had required her full attention, and left her wondering how Diana managed to drive with such high-volume back seat shenanigans. Give me peak hour city traffic any day.

  ‘Do you leave them at the stock agency often?’

  ‘Nah, only for special occasions. It was too hard when they were little, but now Pete’s the manager and the boys are easier to manage, it seems to work okay for short bursts,’ said Diana, pulling out of the parking lot.

  Penny glanced over her shoulder and watched the twins jumping across sacks of grain and dry dog food. She hoped, for her brother-in-law’s sake, that the doctor was running on time today. They skirted around the back of the small town and found a park right beside the Bridgefield bush nursing centre.

  Penny hadn’t set foot inside for nigh on seventeen years, but the vinyl chairs remained unchanged, the reception area untouched by a paintbrush. The scent of Pine O Cleen disinfectant greeted her like a long-forgotten Christmas tree as she walked through the glass sliding doors.

  Penny gave her name to the receptionist, who welcomed her home fondly even though she looked as unfamiliar as the woman discussing toddler toileting routines with Diana. The chatty woman leaned over Diana to introduce herself.

  ‘I’ve heard all about you, Penny. I feel like I know you already. And aren’t you just the spitting image of your sisters.’ Her voice was loud enough for all the room to hear, but the sleeping child on her lap barely stirred.

  ‘Diana’s just been telling me how she’s taken you under her wing. You’re so lucky to have a big family like yours to look after you.’

  Diana smiled proudly, enjoying the compliment and oblivious to Penny’s discomfort at the woman’s familiarity.

  A sinking feeling settled in Penny’s stomach as she looked around the waiting room and wondered how many of the people buried behind newspapers, magazines and mobile phones already knew about her arrival. Nothing around here stays private for long.

  Nine

  A yellowing skeleton smiled back at Penny as she entered the doctor’s room. The doctor’s hair had faded to a mousy grey, but her smile was as vibrant and welcoming as ever.

  ‘Long time, no see, Penny. I heard you were back in the neighbourhood,’ said the physician, directing her wheelchair to the front of the room.

  Penny shook her hand, feeling the secure, warm grip of the woman she had admired since childhood, and took a seat next to Diana.

  ‘Dr Sinclair, you’re looking well.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you though. What’s all this about Ross River fever?’

  Penny threw a glance at Diana, who raised her hands in mock defence.

  ‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t say anything.’

  The doctor smiled before wheeling herself back behind the desk and reaching for Penny’s file.

  ‘It’s common knowledge already—don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how fast news travels around here?’

  Penny shook her head. Home, sweet home.

  ‘Looks like the gossip line has upgraded from dial-up to NBN. I only arrived two days ago.’

  Dr Sinclair laughed and referred to her notes.

  ‘Seems we have your records from birth up until 2002, but nothing since then. Who’s your current doctor?’

  Penny gave her the details for the Acland Street Medical Centre in St Kilda and outlined her illness, skimming over the humiliating collapse quickly and quietly. The longer she spoke, the more the doctor’s expression shifted from passive to pitying, and she knew her chance to swing the consultation in her favour was unlikely.

  ‘She’s been in hospital too. You might want the details from them,’ interjected Diana, brimming with the need to contribute.

  Penny shot a severe expression in her direction.

  ‘Lovely, I’ll grab those details after an examination. Up you hop.’

  Penny slipped off her ballet flats and lay down on the clinic bed. The doctor navigated her wheelchair over and examined her, humming as she scribbled notes on her file. She pulled out an arm cuff.

  ‘Sit up. And sleeve up, too. What made you come see me if you’ve just got out of hospital? Are you in more pain?’

  Diana interjected again. ‘I insisted, doctor. With forty-something years of McIntyres under your belt, I knew you were worth a visit.’

  ‘Thanks, Diana. But how about you, Penny? Do you think you need a second opinion?’ She looked at Penny.

  Diana was suddenly busy with her handbag, a pink glow spreading across her alabaster complexion.

  Penny shrugged.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I thought the doctors in Melbourne were making a mountain out of a molehill. Until the hospital stint … the last thing I expected was an enforced ten-week break.’ Her voice trailed off. She met the doctor’s gaze and shrugged again. ‘But here I am. Back at home in my thirties, with round-the-clock care. Barely able to walk to the bathroom without the effort tuckering me out.’

  ‘At least you’re on the right track now, Penny.’ Dr Sinclair returned to her desk and typed as she spoke. ‘Did you tell the Melbourne GP about your mother’s history?’

  Penny looked up and shook her head. ‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’

  ‘I can check the records but this old memory bank is pretty reliable.’ Dr Sinclair tapped her head with her knuckles. ‘I remember a note in Annabel’s files about a serious fever in her teenage years—not Ross River fever but an autoimmune illness, maybe lupus, something like that.’

  Penny’s brow furrowed. How come I haven’t heard this until now? She turned to Diana, suddenly grateful for her sister’s presence.

  ‘But what does that mean for me? Plenty of people get run down, and I’ve got the benefit of being young, fit and healthy.’ Penny’s voice went up a notch and her hand slipped to her temples, massaging a tremor by her eye.

  ‘Yes, but we need to keep a closer eye on someone who has a family history. A viral infection is one thing, but with a genetic history like yours, it could be a precursor to something much more serious.’

  The doctor placed a hand on Penny’s arm. Penny stared blankly, still processing the news.

  ‘I can see you’re shocked. I’ll get you to come back to the clinic after
your test results and records are transferred. The best thing you can do is respect your body. Nourish it with low-impact strengthening exercises, maybe some mindful meditation or yoga; whatever it takes to get your mind and body back on the right track.’

  Penny felt the doctor squeeze her arm and looked up to see a kind but firm expression on the older woman’s face.

  ‘This is a warning, not a death sentence. You need to take your recovery seriously.’

  Penny nodded contritely and looked at the slips of colourful paper Dr Sinclair handed her, each advertising a different seniors’ exercise class at the nursing centre.

  ‘Forget about the city for a while, switch off your social media, smell the roses, that type of thing. God knows there are plenty growing in your mother’s beautiful garden.’

  ‘But you think this is going to help? Geriatric exercise classes?’ Penny waved the brochures in the air, then flinched at the pain the movement evoked.

  ‘You’d be surprised, Penny. You need to nourish your body, not keep punishing it.’

  Penny didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the thought. She knew Vince would be amused when he found out. Her heart sank further as she remembered she still hadn’t heard from him. I’ll try him again tonight.

  She tried to move her expression to something agreeable, something that would satisfy both Diana and the doctor, but enthusiasm failed her. Penny was a spin class and boot camp type of girl, someone who had always scoffed at the easy option. Even the Tough Mudder obstacle race had been fun, right up until the mosquito had given her a major virus as the ultimate unexpected souvenir. Yoga and low-impact aerobics classes will be like watching paint dry. She looked at Dr Sinclair’s serious expression. It seemed like this aspect of her recovery was non-negotiable.

  ‘You’re doing aerobics classes with a bunch of senior citizens? What a hoot! I’ll have to start calling you Jane Fonda. Please tell me you’ll be wearing a pastel leotard and a headband?’