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.
