Babylon South. Jon Cleary

this fight?’ He hadn’t meant to bring up the subject.

      She looked at him, not wishing to fight him. They were out in the garden, away from the others. She looked at him and then up at all the other old men on the wide verandahs. Once they had been young boys; where had all their energy gone? Why hadn’t they stored some of it for days such as they had to live now? If Walter had lived, would all his energies have gone, would she have been far too young for him in bed and out of it? She looked back at Edwin, saw he had no energy for a fight.

      ‘It wasn’t meant to be like that, Edwin. It was meant to be a rationalization. You’ve just said it yourself – you’re old. So is everyone on the board, except me. You should talk to Justine, she works amongst the young people in the corporation. Ask her what they think. In the foreign exchange section of the bank we have 22-year-olds earning a hundred thousand dollars a year.’

      ‘They’re not worth it!’

      ‘They think they are.’

      ‘The young people aren’t the ones who have to find the money for all you want to do. You’re too ambitious, Venetia.’

      She nodded. ‘I know. So is Justine.’

      He had always found difficulty in arguing with her; she seemed to mock him by agreeing with him. But then Emma came up as a reinforcement.

      ‘We’ve done our duty. We can go now, Edwin.’

      ‘I’m be in touch,’ said Venetia. ‘I’m not finished yet.’ Michael Broad had called her only a few minutes after she had reached home; he had sounded panic-stricken, told her the market was plunging like a broken dam. ‘We’ll be back to you.’

      For a moment Emma looked uncertain. ‘None of this would have happened if Walter had still been alive.’

      ‘No, that’s true. If Walter were still alive, I might still be the dutiful wife. Which is what you would have wanted me to be.’

      ‘You were never that.’ Emma couldn’t control her venom; like cancer, it had got worse with time. ‘Walter was fortunate he never learned the truth about you. I saw you today with one of your old boyfriends—’

      ‘Emma, that’s enough!’ Edwin’s usually mild voice was unexpectedly sharp.

      For a moment it looked as if Emma might turn her venom on him. She stared at both of them; Venetia would not have been surprised if she had pointed a finger at them and called down a curse. Then abruptly she turned and stalked stiff-legged across the lawn and up into the house. At the top of the steps that led up to the wide verandah she was confronted accidentally by Justine. They stood face to face, something was said that made the guests on the verandah turn their heads, then Justine stepped round her aunt and almost ran down the steps and across the lawn to her mother.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ Venetia had never seen her daughter so upset.

      ‘What’s the matter with that woman?’ Justine was on the verge of tears. ‘In front of everyone she asked me did I know whose bastard I was!’

      There was a gasp from Edwin. He put his hand on his niece’s arm, the first time he had touched her in years. ‘I don’t know what’s come over her lately, since the discovery of Walter’s … Take no notice of her, my dear—’

      ‘That’s not easy,’ said Venetia, looking up towards the house; Emma had disappeared inside and now all those on the verandah were gazing down at the three of them. ‘Taking no notice of her, I mean. You will have to do something about her, Edwin.’

      ‘I’m try.’ But he sounded as if he had little hope that he would.

      Venetia took Justine’s arm and walked her towards the garden’s back boundary. The garden had once been a local showpiece, thrown open every year by the Springfellows for charity; Sir Archibald had been one of the nation’s more famous camellia growers. There were flowers and shrubs that had been brought from all over the globe; the natural world had been brought to order in these couple of suburban acres. Venetia no longer opened the garden to the public, not even for one day; instead, the Royal Blind Society got a cheque but no invitation. She knew that, though the day was for the benefit of the blind, those who had paid to come were as keen-sighted as Aboriginal hunters, missing nothing, especially her. She had been more on display than any camellia, rose or rhododendron.