TWENTY-TWO
Twenty-two
‘Of course!’ Hannah said, clasping her hands around the knee she’d just crossed over her other long leg.
‘What?’ Lottie gaped at her mother. They’d just sat down over morning tea and Damian had launched into his theory about Jack McNally and the family ring and how they hoped to get it appraised.
‘Why wouldn’t I want to help?’ she asked her daughter, looking bewildered.
‘I asked to get the ring out so I could photograph it when I started writing my book and you freaked out.’
‘This is different. It’s scientific —it’s nothing to do with the heart,’ Hannah explained, giving her daughter a forthright look.
‘The heart?’ Damian repeated, glancing across at Lottie for clarification.
‘The curse. Surely you told him about that?’ her mother said, sounding surprised.
‘Only vaguely,’ Lottie murmured. Great. Just when she’d hoped maybe a guy she really liked wouldn’t think she came from a family of Froot Loops.
‘The family curse you mentioned when we first met—that you were writing about?’ Damian asked, curiously.
‘It’s the ring. I can’t believe you didn’t tell him the story, Charlotte,’ her mother admonished.
I can’t believe he’s about to hear it . Lottie groaned inwardly.
‘This opal has been handed down from mother to daughter of every generation of women in our family for as long as anyone can remember. And every, single, time, it leaves death and heartache in its wake.’
‘I see,’ Damian said slowly. ‘How exactly does it do that?’
‘True love. That’s the curse. Once you find true love, the ring takes it away. Every woman who has worn the ring loses the love of their life. Tell him,’ she said, turning her attention back to Lottie.
‘Mum, it’s got nothing to do with the ring,’ Lottie said wearily.
‘Name one woman who hasn’t been widowed within a year of marrying?’ she challenged.
‘It doesn’t mean—’
‘You can’t,’ she cut in. ‘You can’t put six generations of women widowed almost as soon as they married as a simple coincidence. What are the scientific chances of that, Damian?’
‘Well …’ Damian looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
‘There’s no scientific explanation needed. It’s just bad luck,’ Lottie argued, shaking her head.
‘Bad luck, cursed, call it whatever you want. But I’m telling you, it’s all linked to that ring. I’m happy to have it appraised, but it won’t change my mind. It’s getting buried with me so it can’t do any further harm. I should have just got rid of it years ago, somehow—thrown it into the ocean or had it melted down.’
‘Mum?’ Lottie frowned at her mother uncertainly.
‘What? I told you, there’s no way I’m risking your happiness by passing it down to you. To be honest, I haven’t thought about it in a while, but maybe it’s time to consider getting rid of it once and for all. Now your grandmother is gone, there are no real ties to it.’
‘Except it reminds me of her,’ Lottie snapped. ‘You can’t tell me that you don’t think of her wearing it and how much she loved it? She was proud of the heritage it had. How can you consider destroying it when it’s been part of this family for a century and a half?’
‘Because I know what I know. That ring brings nothing but sadness.’
She can’t be reasoned with. Lottie sat back in her chair and bit her tongue. Her mother was stubborn in her beliefs and there was no changing her mind once it was made up.
‘Maybe getting it appraised will give us some information about where it came from. Maybe we’ll find some answers?’ Damian suggested.
‘Like I said, I’m happy for you to get it appraised if there’s a possibility it can bring you the answers you’re after. It’s never been about the value of the thing.’
‘It is about the family history, though.’
‘And look where that’s gotten us,’ Hannah said sadly.
There was a lingering silence, and Damian was suddenly very interested in drinking his tea. But thankfully her mother, being the gracious host that she usually was, changed the topic of conversation.
‘You should have a brownie. It might help you relax,’ Hannah said with a smile.
‘No, thank you,’ Lottie said, sending her a silent message to behave.
‘They’re extra chocolatey,’ Hannah continued sweetly.
‘I like chocolate,’ Damian piped up eagerly.
‘No,’ Lottie cut in quickly, straightening in her chair. ‘Thank you, Mother,’ she added firmly. She noticed Damian seemed to slump slightly. ‘We should probably get going.’
‘I’ll be going into town tomorrow, so I’ll drop the ring in at the shop for you to pick up, Damian,’ Hannah said, smiling graciously.
Clearly the man had worked his magic on her mother too—there was no way Hannah would have agreed to handing over the ring had she asked for it.
They farewelled her mother and got back into Lottie’s car.
‘Why didn’t you mention the family curse thing?’
‘Because it’s not a thing,’ she said briskly. ‘Surely you of all people don’t believe in curses?’
‘I’m not saying I do. I just think, considering you’re researching the women of your family, the topic of a curse would have come up in your book.’
‘I’m writing the book to prove to my mother that there’s no such thing. My family are a living example of how history changed people’s lives. Men went away to war and didn’t come home. Happened to thousands. Disease swept through places and people died. Mining accidents happened all the time.’ She shook her head, frustrated. ‘It’s just my mother and all her woo-woo tarot reading, meditation and getting-in-touch-with-your-spirituality stuff that makes her believe there’s something inexplicable going on.’
‘Maybe making this ring the villain is the way your mum copes with the idea of the fickleness of life and the injustice of it all. For someone with a very optimistic view of the world that unexplainable randomness can be really difficult to accept. You are two very different personalities,’ he commented, taking in the scenery out his window.
‘My mother’s always been a free spirit. Earlier, it was simply having a good time and being around other people. She was always out, and she loved dancing and blowing off steam, but later she kind of mellowed a bit with the whole drinking and partying thing, before she got into all this spirituality stuff.’ Lottie shrugged. ‘She’s never cared about what anyone thought of her, never worried about being judged by other people’s norms.’
‘People change as they get older. They figure out what’s important to them. She seems happy with her life.’
‘She is. And don’t get me wrong, I love that she’s happy. Only, she hides behind all this new age stuff. She’ll tell you she doesn’t need a partner or someone to grow old with, that she’s happy on her own, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true.’
‘Maybe she is?’ Damian replied. ‘Some people are happy on their own.’
‘Maybe,’ Lottie shrugged. ‘But I know how fiercely my mother loves me and I can’t help but wonder how a person just turns that off to other people. I hate the thought of her turning away a chance at happiness with someone because she chooses to believe a stupid story about a family curse.’
‘And has she? Turned someone important away?’
‘They never become important. She has men friends now and again, but as soon as they begin to hint at wanting anything more, they’re gone.’
‘It could just be her personality?’
‘Maybe.’ But she doubted it.
‘I really would have liked to try your mum’s brownies,’ he added after a moment of silence fell between them.
Lottie gave a small chuckle. ‘Trust me, you really wouldn’t.’
‘Is she a bad cook?’ he asked curiously, turning his head to face her.
‘They aren’t the usual type of brownies. My mother tends to incorporate … herbs into her cooking. You wouldn’t be getting much work done today after you had one.’
‘Oh,’ he said, drawing the word out as comprehension dawned on him. ‘I really like your mum.’
‘She clearly likes you,’ Lottie said.
The merry jingle of bells sounded as Damian pushed open the door to the bakery. Instantly, a waft of pastry, hot pies and freshly baked bread hit his senses. Judy bustled out from the back of the store.
‘Damian! I haven’t seen you in here for a few days. I thought you’d got sick of my vanilla slice!’ she said with mock horror.
‘Never,’ Damian promised, then gave a sheepish grin. ‘I just had to use some restraint when I realised my clothes were beginning to get a bit tight.’
‘Oh, you don’t have anything to worry about there,’ she dismissed with a wave of her hand. ‘You could use a bit more meat on your bones. My boys were raised on this stuff, all grew up to be strapping young men.’
Lottie had introduced him to one of Judy’s boys at the festival—strapping he was indeed, all six foot, five inches and at least one hundred and thirty kilos.
They chatted about the festival for a few minutes and Damian gave her his order for the usual vanilla slice, coffee and meat pie.
‘We’re all very excited that you and our Lottie seem to be getting serious. Have we managed to get you to swap city for country life yet?’ she asked coyly as she selected his items with long tongs and placed them in white paper bags.
‘I’m considering it,’ he said somewhat awkwardly, still unused to this direct kind of questioning and trying not to offend. He’d never exchanged more than a hello and a thank you with a baker before coming here. Discussing his private life and future plans with practical strangers was still a tad confronting.
‘Well, we hope you do. It’s always lovely to have new faces settling in around town. It’s nice you didn’t have to rush off after the festival.’
‘Yeah. I’ve got a bit of time off and it’s peaceful enough here to get some writing done on my new book. It’s worked out great.’ He paid for his purchases and breathed a sigh of relief. That was going to take some getting used to.
Now he understood Lottie’s hesitation in making their relationship public—not that it was enough to make him regret doing so. He didn’t care if the whole world knew they were a couple, but there was still a lot to work out between them and that was hard enough to do in private without the whole town watching on and adding in their two cents’ worth.
Country life was not for the faint of heart.