Midsummer's Eve

They had heard the grievous news and they reminded me that on the death of my parents and my only brother, I had become the owner of the Cador estate. I was in possession of considerable property and wealth; and consequently there were many questions to be discussed. They thought it would be advisable for me to return to England at my very earliest convenience. I would have to decide what was to be done about the Australian property. My father had written to them of his wish to sell and they understood there was a prospective buyer.

They were my obedient servants, Yorke, Tamblin and Company.

I let the letter fall from my hands.

With it came certain reality. I had to come out of my fantasy world where I could delude myself into thinking this was a nightmare from which I should wake when my parents came into my room.

I had been ill; I had been in a fever; I had had hallucinations. No longer could I tell myself that.

I had to face the truth. They were gone forever. I was left desolate, alone, but a woman with responsibilities.

When Helena came in, I said to her: "We shall go home.”

She nodded. "When you are stronger. You have been very ill. Just yet the journey would be too much for you.”

"I've had a letter from the lawyers. I shall have to go back to Cador.”

"When you go, I shall come with you. We shan't be parted, ever.”

"No. We have suffered ... both of us. But we have to go on. So you'll come to Cador with me?”

"I shall go where you go.”

"I don't think I can face it yet, Helena. There are more memories there than here.

It will seem that at home they are everywhere ...”

"Perhaps you would rather not go to Cador?”

"Where else? London?”

She shivered.

"It would have to be Cador," I went on. "You see, Helena, Cador is now mine. I am sure they never thought of this. My father ..." My voice broke and I forced myself to go on. "He was not old ... and there was Jacco and there should have been Jacco's children ... and to think of him ... oh, Helena, I can't go on.”

"Then let's stay awhile. You can stay here as long as you like. This is your place, isn't it, for all that it seems to belong to Greg Donnelly.”

"I just want to drift. I can't go home yet. I'll have to write to these lawyers.

I'll tell them I'll come when I'm ready.”

She nodded. Then she said: "It suits us here ... both of us ... shut away from things that remind us and hurt us.”

"Strange," I said, "I was so looking forward to going home." I felt the tears falling down my cheeks. I realized with amazement that it was the first time I had wept since it happened.

The weather was less hot now. This was winter. It seemed rather like our spring.

I hardly noticed the change. I did not notice anything. It was sunrise and then it was sundown ... and I went on living in limbo. I did not want to emerge. I was afraid to, for then I had to face my loss.

"Time heals," Maud had said. I supposed the time-honoured cliche was true. It wouldn't have lasted so long if it hadn't been. Time did heal. It must. Did I feel any less bereaved, any less desolate than I had on the day they had brought me the news that that broken oat had been washed ashore?

I just wanted time to pass ... to put as long as I could between myself and that tragedy. I only wished I could believe that in time it would be easier.

I was in my room a great deal. I had no desire to go out. I did not want to talk to anyone but Helena. I did not want to see anyone but her and the baby.

I would lie on my bed during the long afternoons, waiting for sundown and the night which followed, when I might sleep and escape into dreams where my parents would be with me. But then would come the awakening, that deadly realization that what I had thought I was experiencing was only a dream-and I was alone again.

That afternoon there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said thinking it was Helena.

But it was Gregory Donnelly.

I did not feel the apprehension or annoyance which I should have before. I was just indifferent.

"I have come to talk to you," he said. "May I come in?”

To ask permission was so different from the manner he had prelously employed. But then everything had changed-even he.

I nodded wearily. He brought up a chair and sat down.

"You look better," he said.

I did not answer.

"We'll soon get you well. Maud says she thinks you're picking -ip.”

Still I said nothing.

"I want you to know I'm going to look after you.”

I said quietly: "Thanks, but I can look after myself.”

"No," he said softly. "You need someone. I'll tell you what you need. You need a new life. You want to start afresh.”

"Yes," I said. "I need a new life.”

"I can give it to you. We'll do anything you want. We'll go away for a while.”

"I shall go home," I said.

"Later ... yes. I'll come with you. You'll need someone to help you.”

"To help me?”

"A big burden has been thrust on you. You'll need someone beside you ... someone who cares for you. You need a husband. Don't delay any longer, Annora.”