Single Father: Wife and Mother Wanted

‘Oh, you two have met.’ Doreen sounded intrigued.

‘Yes. At Jim’s accident this morning. This is the Caitlin that Nicky was talking about. She delivered the foal.’ Matt’s disbelieving eyes stayed focussed on her face. Almost as though he expected her to disappear if he looked away.

‘Oh, my. Nicky’s going to be so excited to see you,’ said Doreen.

Caitlin smiled weakly.

‘So staying here was one of those plans you were talking about earlier,’ said Matt.

‘Yes,’ she croaked.

‘Then you’ll be here when I get home later?’

She stared at him. Escape to Melbourne beckoned.

‘Of course she will be, dear,’ said Doreen. ‘She’s booked in for a week.’

‘Bookings can be changed,’ he murmured, his eyes all too knowing. ‘Caitlin?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’

His mouth moved into a small smile and a spark of humour lit the green eyes. ‘Yes, you’ll be here? Or, yes, bookings can be changed?’

‘Um. Yes. I’ll be here.’ Why did she feel as though she’d committed herself to more than simple accommodation?

‘Good.’ He nodded with satisfaction. ‘Right. I’ll be off, then.’

‘Do you have time for lunch, dear?’ said Doreen.

‘Had some, thanks. I just called in to pick up these files.’ He shifted and for the first time Caitlin noticed he was carrying a wad of papers. ‘I’ll take some of whatever smells so good back to work with me, though.’

‘Muffins. I’ll get you something to put them in.’ Doreen slipped away from the table.

Compelled to break the small ensuing silence, Caitlin asked, ‘How—how did Mr Neilson take the news about not moving the mare and foal?’

‘He accepted it. You must have charmed him.’

‘As long as he doesn’t rush it.’

‘Here you are.’ Doreen was back, holding out a bulging bag.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ He kissed her cheek then looked back at Caitlin. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She hoped the smile she gave him didn’t look as feeble as it felt.

After he’d gone, Doreen sat down again. ‘Thank you so much for being discreet, dear. I feel a bit mean, involving you like that. But fancy it being you who was there to help this morning. I should have put two and two together earlier—Caitlin is an unusual name. But when you introduced yourself…I was so…’ She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, I’m just a bit muddle-headed today.’

Caitlin bit down on her lip, wondering what her aunt had been going to say. ‘Sure, and don’t we all have those days.’

‘Some of us more than others.’ Doreen smiled, but her eyes were thoughtful. ‘Have you always worked with horses?’

‘Never. I’m a small-animal vet.’ Caitlin raised her voice to speak over the whistling of the kettle. ‘You stay here. I’ll fix the tea.’

‘Oh, but you’re my guest,’ Doreen protested as Caitlin crossed to the kitchen to where all the tea things were laid out.

‘You’ve got it ready, all I’m doing is the kettle,’ said Caitlin, as she reached for the switch. ‘Matt’s practice is in Garrangay, then, is it?’

‘Yes, he took over from Bert Smythe when he retired. Matt’s built the practice up, modernised it,’ said Doreen proudly. ‘Poor old Bert had let things go a bit in his last few years.’

Having poured the boiling water onto the tea-leaves in the pot, Caitlin placed everything onto a tray and carried it across to the table. ‘It must be nice for you, having Matt and Nicky living here with you.’

‘Yes, it is, though, strictly speaking, I live with them, of course,’ said Doreen. ‘Matt bought the place when my husband’s health deteriorated and organised renovations to make things easier for us. After Peter passed away, I was rattling around, wondering what to do with myself. Matt suggested turning it into a bed and breakfast. Milk for you?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Caitlin accepted the proffered cup. ‘It’s a grand old building.’

‘My great-great-grandfather, William Elijah Brown, built it. He and my great-great-grandmother, Lily, were early pioneers in the district.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Don’t get me started or I’ll have you looking at all my old photos.’

A sharp quiver ran though Caitlin’s stomach. The man who had built this magnificent place, who had worked and, with his wife, raised a family here, was her ancestor, too. Longing and sadness tempered a feeling of pride.

‘I’d love to see them—the photos.’ A sudden fierce need to put faces to the names pulled at her. And maybe it would lead in to a way to tell Doreen why she was here. ‘I’ve always loved old photos, wondering about the people in them, what their lives were like.’

Doreen fixed her with a quick searching look, which changed to a delighted smile. ‘Well, it just so happens I love showing them off. Let’s take our cuppa into the lounge, shall we?’

Caitlin’s legs felt rubbery as she followed her aunt.

‘I’ve put the best of the best in this album,’ said Doreen, patting the sofa beside her. ‘If you’re really interested in what their lives were like, I’ve got a collection of newspaper articles I can show you some time.’

Doreen flipped through a parade of sepia-toned photos, pointing out an ancestor here and there with an amusing story. The formality of the poses, women in long dresses, men in suits and uniforms, held Caitlin enthralled. If she’d been on her own, she would have taken much longer to look at them.

‘Is this you?’ she said, when they came to a candid photo of a young girl with a woman and toddler taken outside Mill House. The gardens around the house were much simpler and the verandah looked as though it had been enclosed.

‘Yes.’

‘So that’s…’ Caitlin’s throat closed over.

‘Mum and my brother, Marty.’

Caitlin was ambushed by a paralysing breathlessness. The toddler was her father. Her father.

Doreen stroked the photo lightly with a fingertip, her face suddenly etched with grief. Moisture prickled Caitlin’s eyes in sympathy and she had to look away.

Oh, God. How stupid to think that the photographs might have created an opportunity to talk about Martin Brown’s death. Sorrow clogged her throat in a painful ball. No way could she speak about her father’s death right now, even if she’d wanted to. Her own emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. She needed to be better prepared, to have the words ready, practised.

Doreen cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, that’s enough for today.’ She closed the album with a snap. ‘Finish your tea and then I’ll show you your room so you can bring your bags in and get settled.’

‘Oh. But…. Are you sure you’re up to having a guest after your angina attack? I can easily arrange to stay somewhere else.’ She pushed aside her promise to Matt about being at the house when he returned. After all, he hadn’t known about the angina attack when he’d pinned her down about her booking. If Doreen needed to cancel, Caitlin wasn’t going to feel bad about leaving.

‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Please. I’ll be so disappointed if you leave now.’