Chapter 33
The staff at Rosedale were doing their best to create a festive vibe, despite the depressing circumstances for the patients and their visitors.
Michael Bublé crooned ‘Jingle Bells’ from the tinny intercom speakers.
Red tinsel adorned the doorways and hung limply over the insipid watercolour paintings that lined the walls.
Doreen, who sat in the office talking on the phone, wore Christmas tree earrings and an elf hat, although her facial expression still suggested she would rather be somewhere else.
Meg put a box of Cadbury’s Favourites on the desk—a Christmas gift to share with the other staff—which elicited a jaded smile.
A fake Christmas tree stood in one corner of the lounge area beside a long table set with supermarket bonbons.
The adjacent sitting area was scattered with small family groups.
Elderly relatives in wheelchairs sat with middle-aged sons and daughters, while grandchildren played hide and seek in the corridors.
Meg side-stepped a toddler on a plastic motorbike and felt a pang in her chest. They didn’t know how lucky they were, not having to do this alone.
Her mum’s door was slightly ajar. Meg steadied herself with a deep breath then pushed the door open. Jenny, who was sitting in the armchair by the window, turned towards her. There was a long pause as Meg waited for her to speak first. Who would Jenny think she was today?
‘Yes?’ Jenny said, brows knitted. ‘Can I help you?’
Meg sighed. Please let this not all be too late. ‘Mum, it’s me. Meg.’ She pulled up the spare chair and took the video from her bag. ‘I brought you the video.’
Jenny took it tentatively, her eyes travelling over the image on the box like it was a puzzle to solve. ‘What’s this for?’
‘You were asking about it the other day. We used to watch it together in your bed. When I was little.’ She studied her mum’s face for some flicker of recognition. ‘Remember?’
Nothing.
‘Mum?’
‘Oh. Yes.’ Jenny nodded, but there was still distance in her eyes. ‘Is Tina here to pick me up?’
‘No, Mum.’ Meg swallowed. She knew the truth now. It was time to stop pretending. ‘Tina’s not coming. She’s in Hartwell, having Christmas Day with her family.’
Jenny’s face flickered with something Meg couldn’t read. Surprise? Confusion? Longing? Then it cleared and she looked out the window. ‘It’s Christmas Day today?’ she asked when she turned back to Meg.
‘Yes. They’ve set up a table in the lounge area. Shall we go out there?’
They chose a spot at one end of the table. Gradually other residents joined them, pulling crackers and donning paper hats.
‘I’m Henry,’ the man sitting opposite said. He was tall with bushy eyebrows.
‘Meg.’
Jenny looked at her, frowning. Meg suspected she saw Tina.
‘What did you get for Christmas, Jenny?’ Henry asked.
She shook her head, unsure.
‘I haven’t given you your gifts yet, Mum,’ Meg said, taking them from her bag. She passed the square one first. ‘Merry Christmas.’
Meg’s heart raced as she watched her mother unwrap the gift. She pulled the ribbon to untie the bow then teased at the knot Meg had tied, instead of just stretching it and pulling it off. Once she’d removed the ribbon, she painstakingly ran her finger under the tape, trying not to tear the paper.
‘Just rip it, Mum,’ Meg said, as someone filled her glass with prosecco.
Jenny shook her head. ‘It’s such pretty paper. Shame to spoil it,’ she said, as though she was planning to reuse it. A frugal habit. Once necessary, now pointless.
Jenny frowned as she folded back the paper to reveal a small black giftbox. She slipped the lid off the box and inhaled sharply. Wide-eyed, she stared at the pendant, which sat on white tissue paper. She placed it on her palm to see it more clearly. Fluorescent light bounced off the chain.
‘Very nice,’ Henry said, eyes glistening.
‘It’s beautiful.’ Jenny’s voice was a whisper. She ran her finger over the design. ‘The scales of justice.’
‘Do you remember it?’ Meg asked softly.
Jenny’s face was hard to read. ‘Remember it?’
Meg sighed. ‘Do you want to put it on?’
Jenny shook her head and lay the necklace on the table, next to the box. Meg passed her the second gift.
Again, Jenny was slow and deliberate as she removed the wrapping. Meg felt a surge of impatience and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to take it from her mother and unwrap it herself.
Jenny frowned and picked up the pen. She squinted at the engraving on the side and reached for her glasses. A hand went up to her mouth as she read the words. The Ashworth Park Hotel.
When she looked back at Meg, there were tears in her eyes.
‘You haven’t opened the card.’
Jenny ripped the envelope, opened the card and whispered the words as she read. ‘Merry Christmas, Anna.’ She shook her head. Her eyes met Meg’s. ‘I don’t understand …’
‘I know the truth, Mum.’
Tears pooled in Jenny’s eyes, but she said nothing.
‘You were working for the Ashworths.’
‘Shh,’ Jenny said, the hissing sound slicing the air.
Conversations around the long table stopped. Eyes looked in their direction, sensing the tension. Her mother had always been intensely private, but Meg didn’t care.
‘You were their baby nurse. You were—’
‘Stop,’ Jenny ordered through gritted teeth, eyes glancing at the watching faces, as if to remind Meg they had an audience. ‘I’m warning you.’
A strong wave of fury rose up in Meg. ‘You stop! Stop lying to me!’
Jenny looked around at the other residents then back at Meg, eyes wide. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying,’ she whispered, shaking.
‘Now, listen,’ Henry said. ‘I can see your mother is getting—’
‘I know the truth, Mum!’ Meg said. ‘You grew up in Hartwell. You have a sister called Christina. Your parents are still alive, for Christ’s sake! They live in a retirement village in Queensland!’
Jenny was bent over, her hands covering her face, shaking from side to side.
Meg should stop—she knew that, it was too much for her mother to cope with—but she couldn’t.
Her anger was like a wild horse, galloping ahead.
She was powerless to stop it. Henry stood up, looking around for a nurse to step in.
‘You were working for the Ashworths, looking after their baby because Heather was sick.’
‘That’s enough!’ Jenny stood up, her chair falling backwards. She glared at Meg. ‘I won’t stand for this!’
Meg stood, trembling, meeting her mother’s gaze.
Their faces were so close she could feel her mother’s breath, see the tiny flare of her nostrils, the pulsing of her temples.
Meg swallowed. Why stop now? She’d said this much.
She held Jenny’s gaze as she asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d discovered her mother had worked for the Ashworths.
‘Is Malcolm Ashworth my father?’
‘Stop!’ Jenny shrieked, shoving Meg’s chest. Caught off guard, Meg stumbled and fell backwards, just missing the Christmas tree. Blinking, she looked up at her mother, who stood above her.
‘We need help in here!’ Henry called out. He put two hands on Jenny’s shoulders and moved her away.
‘I told you to stop,’ Jenny said.
An orderly appeared, picking up Jenny’s chair and positioning it behind her.
Meg clutched for words, still reeling from the shock of the blow, but none came.
‘You wouldn’t stop,’ Jenny said, slumping down into the chair, tears running down her cheeks. ‘You wouldn’t stop.’
Meg got to her feet, staring at her mother in shock. The locket, which lay on the table, caught her eye and she picked it up. She glanced around at the disbelieving faces of the other residents and guests, then back at her mother.
‘Merry bloody Christmas,’ she said, then walked down the corridor and out the front door.