Tears of the Moon Page 2

  Lily was adamant that Stephen continue to be involved with Sami’s life. ‘I didn’t have a male role model and a girl needs a dad.’

  Her academic ex-husband, vague about the nitty-gritty of life, nonetheless was a devoted if distant father—distant due to them being in different cities.

  Lily sighed. How she wished she had sat down with Georgiana and insisted she tell her all she knew about her family. She had a thirst to know about her mother’s background and now it was too late. Too late to understand her rebellious, flighty, independent mother who had lived life at full speed. She’d never even called her ‘Mother’, Georgiana had said it made her feel ‘old’. Even in her later years, Georgiana continued to flirt, to look years younger than she was. When she visited Lily she told her granddaughter Sami to call her Georgie, not Granny.

  Lily and Sami had thought it amusing at the time, but now Lily found her mother’s dedicated zest a pathetic attention-grabbing tactic.

  When Lily was growing up, her friends had envied her such a glamorous, funny and slightly eccentric mother. In reality, Georgiana had been selfish and self-centred, and now Lily resented the loss of family this had caused.

  While wallowing in her personal loss it suddenly occurred to Lily that she was doing what Georgiana always did—excluding everyone else. She had gently broken the news to Sami of her grandmother’s death. Her daughter had then flown from Melbourne for the simple funeral, but with impending university exams Lily had encouraged her to go straight back to Melbourne.

  Now she wondered how her daughter was dealing with this first, unexpected, death in their small family unit. They should be sharing this. It didn’t seem sensible that in this society mourning was a private affair. Where was the ritual, the wailing, the sharing, the support and continuum of death shown by other cultures? Was this why she was finding it so hard to let go of her mother?

  A twinge of bitterness hit Lily as she stretched and went to the wardrobe. Apart from the satin-covered hangers it was empty except for an old leather suitcase that Lily knew held the core of Georgiana’s life. She had once pointed it out to Lily and told her, ‘When I die you’ll find my life in there.’

  Lily had never looked in the suitcase but had persuaded her mother to take out her will, share certificates and deed to the unit and put them in the bank.

  Lily dragged the suitcase out to the middle of the floor, took a sip of wine and unbuckled the old-fashioned catches. It smelled faintly of mothballs and she lifted the tissue paper off the top to reveal a disorderly stack of photographs and letters. She randomly leafed through several letters from one pile. There were love letters between Georgiana and the numerous men in her life. Others were from people she’d met in her travels whom she’d written to for some time until lack of contact and interest had seen the correspondence fizzle out.

  Familiar, though childish, writing in another pile caught her eye. Lily was touched to find all the letters she had written to her mother while at school were carefully bundled together. Georgiana hadn’t been such a diligent correspondent, preferring to telephone. Lily always had a sneaking suspicion the letters her mother did write to her were written for public approval, to be read to others and admired. Dramatic and detailed descriptions of exotic places interspersed with funny anecdotes, outrageously exaggerated, written on thick hotel stationery in a large, free-flowing hand.

  The suitcase also contained dozens of photographs of Georgiana with friends and on her travels. She noticed one photograph was wrapped in tissue paper. Curious, she folded back the yellowed paper to reveal a sepia-tinted photo set in a small silver frame. Staring out at her was a handsome man in a white uniform, wearing a nautical hat set at a jaunty angle. Despite the formal pose there was a hint of a suppressed smile about the mouth and merry eyes. She’d never seen this man before and wondered for a moment if it was her father, then remembered that he’d been in the army. She opened the back of the frame and read in spidery writing on the back of the photo, ‘Broome, 1910’. He was too old to be an amour of her mother and, knowing Georgiana’s family had come from the west, there must obviously be a connection.

  There were other photos taken at balls and dinners, and in gardens of unknown houses. There was one of a man in uniform who appeared in several photos which, judging by the car, she took to be in America. There were photos taken around the world, which featured Georgiana centre stage with elephants and castles, alongside laughing companions. There were photos of Lily taken on their holiday trips and some of her as a small child playing with a sailboat, on a merry-go-round or dressed to kill in bonnet, bows and Mary Janes—what Georgie called her ‘Shirley Temple shoes’.

  But it was a record of Georgiana’s life only after she had left Australia. There was nothing that connected her to her own family, her childhood or her country. Nothing, except for this mysterious framed photograph of the man in Broome.

  Lily had reached the bottom of the suitcase now and found a parcel. Inside was a letter and a cloth-wrapped package. She opened the letter, addressed to her in her mother’s writing, with trembling hands.

  Lily dear,

  I always intended to give you these but could never find the right time. I held back as I knew you would ask questions and I don’t have all the answers.

  I had such an unsettled youth, I felt no interest in my past. And I preferred to stick to the old adage that what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Ever since the war, I suppose my philosophy has been to live for today.

  Now these are yours, for they have been passed on to the women in our family for so very long. When my grandmother gave them to me she said, ‘Keep them close to your heart as I have done. If they are not cherished and cared for, like love they will turn to dust.’

  Just know you have been my life and in my way I did my best for you. I didn’t need any family but you.

  My love,

  Mother

  Lily wept as she read her mother’s words. It was the first time she could remember Georgie calling herself ‘Mother’.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before! You were all I had, Georgie. My mother, yes, but I needed more.’

  Lily sobbed with the pain of loss, for her mother and for the family she never knew, and for the woman she was and didn’t understand and for her own daughter to whom she could pass on so little of her past.

  When she eventually stopped crying, but still shaking with emotion, she unwrapped the lumpy, cylindrical parcel.

  In it was a blue velvet bag. She undid the drawstring and tipped out a strand of magnificent fat, glowing pearls. Lily gasped as she fingered them, but what caught her attention was the strangely carved mother-of-pearl pendant that hung from the centre of the pearl necklace. On it were carved parallel lines, a circle with smaller circles in it, and an X.

  Impulsively she draped the rope of pearls around her neck and pressed her hands over the pendant. It felt smooth and cool and Lily shut her eyes as a wonderful feeling swept over her.

  And then, faintly, like looking through a misty screen, she remembered. She had seen this wonderful necklace before. It had shone against the navy silk of a dress worn by—the lady in the flower garden. Other small details came back to her. They had been walking among the flowers, holding hands. Her great-grandmother had been telling her the names of the flowers. Once when she turned to smile down at Lily, the little girl had reached out and touched the swinging pendant. Great-grandmother let her wear it saying, ‘One day this will come to you, Lily.’ Then Georgie had come along and said the necklace looked silly swinging down near her knees and had taken it off and handed it back saying, ‘She might break it.’

  Lily had forgotten the incident but now it was vividly recalled. It was on that one trip they’d made to see her great-grandmother in Perth. She wondered why she had never seen her mother wear this family necklace. It was obviously old and valuable. But what made it most precious was the knowledge it was a family heirloom. She felt it was the only link she had with her past and her un
known family.

  Uncurling her cramped legs, she swallowed the last of her wine and began to pace about her mother’s flat wearing the magnificent pearl necklace and pendant.

  Lily wanted to lift the phone and call her daughter but she held back, not wanting to dump her confusion and misery on a young woman busy with university finals. Her thoughts then moved to the man in her life. She knew Tony would be sweet to her if she called, but it was the sort of conversation where they needed to be physically close, where she could have his full attention, cry and be held. Distance and private lives separated them.

  Suddenly, Lily felt incredibly lonely.

  For the next few weeks she went through the motions of settling her mother’s affairs; selling possessions, giving things away, putting the flat up for sale. But she couldn’t shake her feelings of dislocation, of loss and a gnawing sense of wanting to resolve the gaps in her past. So much emotion had been triggered by the discovery of the pearl necklace. She found herself staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, studying her features, searching for clues from the unknown ranks of ghostly relatives who swam through her past—who had formed this person called Lily. Where had she come from . . . what genes had she passed on to her own daughter?

  As if hearing her silent call, Samantha rang her. ‘I’ve been thinking about you, Mum. It must be hard, sorting out Georgie’s stuff and everything. I wish I’d come and helped. I think it would have been easier—to know she’s really gone—if I had been there with you.’

  ‘Yes, I wish you had, too. But you had exams, Sami . . . It’s certainly been . . . strange.’

  Sami heard the vulnerable tremor in her mother’s voice. ‘Dad asked how you were getting on. Said he didn’t want to intrude but hoped you were coping all right.’

  ‘I am coping all right. You know me. It’s just . . . ’ and her voice trailed off.

  ‘What, Mum? You don’t miss her do you? I mean, it’s not as if she was around a lot.’

  ‘But she was my mother, Sami . . . and I can’t help wondering. About her and her life.’

  ‘We don’t know much do we?’ Sami’s voice was hard. ‘I think it was so unfair of her, to keep everything to herself. She never told us anything. Whenever I asked about her side of the family, she said I didn’t need to know that stuff. But I do, Mum!’ Now Sami’s voice was trembling. ‘It’s all part of us. It’s like she took away our family, wiped them all out. And now there’s only you and me and a bunch of letters and photographs of people we know nothing about. What am I supposed to tell my daughter when I have one?’

  ‘Calm down, Sami. Don’t be melodramatic. But you’re right, darling. That’s why I’m feeling so sad, for just those reasons. I feel I’ve let you down, too . . . ’

  ‘Oh no, Mum. You haven’t. Maybe we can piece it all together and trace our family tree when we have time. Please don’t feel badly. Do you want me to fly up?’

  ‘No, sweetheart. It’s only a few months till the holidays. You keep your head down and study hard. Maybe we’ll do something special, go somewhere nice—if you don’t have plans that is.’

  ‘I’d love that. Let’s make it a date. I love you, Mum.’

  ‘Love you too. Take care, Sami.’

  Lily hung up, grateful to her daughter for her thoughtfulness, but feeling worse than before. She felt history was repeating itself. Deep in thought, Lily packed the photos and letters back in the leather suitcase but kept out the silver-framed photo of the man from Broome. She kept the necklace on and that night slept naked, wearing just the pearls. They felt alive and warm against her skin and once, waking in the moonlight, she looked at them and thought it was like they’d come to life, for their lustre had an almost luminous glow.

  By morning, she’d made up her mind. She’d take three months’ leave from the medical clinic where she worked as a research technician, for she was owed long service leave. She would go to Broome and start the search for her mother’s family there. She owed it to herself and to her daughter.

  The more she thought about Georgiana’s attitude, the more convinced Lily was that there were secrets that perhaps her mother felt best buried and forgotten.

  It surprised her how easily one could make things happen. In a matter of weeks she had rearranged her life.

  Tony, her lover, good friend and part-time companion, was initially surprised and asked why she was undertaking this search now. ‘Why didn’t you do this years ago? You said you felt strongly about it when you were pregnant with Sami. Why do this now? What’s it going to achieve?’

  His gentle questioning made her try to find the answers in her heart. Several times in her life she had felt the need to trace her family. Being pregnant had made her wonder about hereditary traits and genes but she had enough to deal with at the time and never followed it up. She always intended to sit her mother down with a bottle of wine and ask all the questions. But she never got around to it. And at boarding school, when girls talked about family stuff and shared secrets, Lily had little to offer and let them think she was holding something back rather than tell them how little she knew about her family. Dear God, had Sami faced that same questioning and, like herself, had no answers?

  Maybe it was shock, grief, the emotional rocking of her life, the realisation that she owed her daughter something. But Lily knew the time had come to look at her life—the past and the future.

  Strangely, she felt invigorated and renewed and she spoke aloud, ‘I hope you’re at peace at last, Georgie, but I have unfinished business. Family business. I’m going west.’

  Lily lifted up the pearls and kissed the pendant and for the first time in many weeks, laughed aloud.

  Lily was sitting in the forward section next to the window, her face obscured by the pages of the Australian newspaper. Her concentration was interrupted by the flight attendant unlatching the small table and placing a tray of food in front of her.

  Lily started, and then smiled over the top of the paper. ‘Sorry, I was reading.’

  The young woman in the Ansett uniform smiled back. ‘Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please.’

  As she began pouring the steaming tea the stewardess gave this attractive woman a friendly glance. ‘Going to Darwin on a holiday?’

  The cabin crew had been eyeing this pretty fortyish woman in the beige linen slacks and cream silk shirt, her thick dark hair coiled on her head, a minimum of tasteful gold jewellery. ‘Classy’ was the word they’d decided suited her. She had olive skin and large dark eyes. Her mouth was wide and generous. She was one of those beautiful women whose looks crept up on you, feature by feature.

  Lily answered in her soft husky voice. ‘I’m actually going on to Broome.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a great place for a holiday.’

  ‘I’m going there on business. Family business. How long do I have in Darwin?’

  ‘Five hours, I’m afraid. You have to change planes.’

  The attendant smiled and moved on to the next row.

  When she returned later to offer a refill, Lily was lying back with her eyes closed and a wistful expression on her face that didn’t invite disturbance.

  Lily was not asleep. But she was tired, emotionally tired as well as physically. She had finalised the storage, sale and charity donations of Georgiana’s belongings. The apartment was clean and empty and in the hands of a real estate agent. She’d had a late night packing and leaving things in order for the housekeeper she had hired for the time she was away. She had been up early, phoning Sami to say she was on her way, and that she would be staying at the Continental Hotel in Broome. She promised to call regularly.

  Lily now regarded this trip as something of a turning point in her life. She realised she had been treading water for some time and could not go forward until she had settled the past. It seemed strange to think she had reached her forties before ‘finding herself’, but maybe certain things came along at certain times in your life.

  Her marriage to Sami’s father had been conventio
nal. As time went on, it became stale and they began to drift into separate worlds. He into the cave-like world of academia as a university lecturer, while she had begun to widen her horizons, looking for something else in her life.

  Four years after her divorce she’d met Anthony Jamieson—Tony—a widower whose wife had died two years before. Her death had led him to withdraw emotionally and, despite his worldliness and professionalism in his job, he was a vulnerable man. At fifty-two he’d had no intention of becoming seriously involved with a woman. He had a demanding job and a grown family which included grandchildren. But Lily had crept under his guard and into his heart and, he’d confessed, taken up residence in his soul. It had come as something of a wonderful surprise to both of them to discover sexual and emotional passion they’d never experienced before. They thought they had the best of both worlds, for living apart kept the romance and passion burning brightly.

  She knew in the beginning he didn’t want the responsibility of another person’s happiness. In her time alone after her divorce, she’d learned the valuable lesson of enjoying her own company, finding her own strengths and taking full responsibility for her own life.

  It had been a bumpy road, tears of self-pity and loneliness welling often and unexpectedly, but she’d weathered it and become strong, self-reliant, yet gende and calm. Tony often wondered at the depth of her understanding, warmth and tolerance. She’d become a giver rather than a taker without realising it. But the threads that bind two people to each other are not made of inflexible steel, but stretch and quiver and snap like elastic, and nothing stays the same. Life was a matter of constant little adjustments, tightening and loosening those ties where necessary. But some issues weren’t addressed and now Lily had the space to reassess many factors in her life. And while she mightn’t find what she was looking for, or like the answers she may find, for the first time in a long time she had a purpose in life.