Valley of Sinners Ch. 04

Shocked by these revelations, Nash wondered about the legal implications, particularly if all or any of the illegitimate children or families decided to seek a greater share of Hope's wealth.

"I have endeavored to protect my own children, but even that could cause squabbles leading to court action upon my death." Hope had told him. "It is my instruction that sixty percent of my estate goes to Lisa and twenty per cent each to my other daughters Claris and Bette. Claris and/or Bette may well try to claim a bigger share but their virtual divorce from me when they left me with their father, now long divorced from me, has been well documented and I continue under legal advice to document when they write or communicate with me in other ways. I have not seen either of them since they left home so dramatically twelve years ago."

Hope and Nash lunched virtually in silence after those disclosures, with Nash twice shaking his head. Finally his thought tumbled out, shocking her: "My bet is that Hollywood will want film rights to this book."

Then came another thought, so preposterous that she physically shook. He said: "This story must be told in its entirety, as it's a case of the truth being better than fiction. Your wish is to dedicate the story to your late father, as a lingering memorial to him which means telling the truth. I'd like you to consider biting the bullet and producing a real biography of your life. We would need to seek legal advice about the best way of protecting ourselves and any publisher so we are indemnified against any claims of damages lodged by or on behalf of the illegitimate children and through using the names of people still alive linked with compromising circumstances with your father."

"Oh God," Hope had cried. "I couldn't do that. I would be pilloried by this community and our family name would be considered akin to animal dung."

"Take it steady, Hope," cautioned Nash. "No need to get upset. Just think about it a bit. As I see it you have three issues to think about over coming days.

"One, do you wish to continue this project?"

"Two, should it be a novel, or a biography?"

"Three, should you be replacing me with a professional author, one who is already highly regarded?"

"Now you go and have a siesta. I'm off to wash and polish the Chevy in the shade of the orchard."

During the next couple of days Hope thought a lot about question three. She'd decided instantly that it had to be her biography simply because the story could be told better from that perspective as in real life the story had not yet finished, as she was now administrator of her late father's affairs in both senses of that word. That decision made question one redundant.

Finally she'd reached a conclusion. She'd debated with herself the pros and cons of having Nash try to write the book, or bringing in someone else and then having to start all over again. Nash had the inside running as he'd befriended Lisa like no other writer would manage. Apparently he'd extracted three notebooks of comments and impressions from Lisa who now considered him to be a hero for saving her from the probability of a terrible gang rape.

Incredibly, through a series of social gatherings Nash had managed to generate a high degree of acceptance in what was rather a tight community. He had charm and he was being exhibited as Hope's protégé, but he seemed to have an invisible shroud of sexuality that seemed to trigger at times, like when he was meeting new people.

It was something that only some women -- and no men -- seemed to sense. Only then had Hope concluded that it was the same presence that she had recognized her father had possessed. Shaking her head, she threw up her hands, accepting that the invasive attraction was the very reason that she'd focused on Nash after he'd assisted her in avoiding having her Chevy towed away.

Alayna, of course, had sensed it although in all probability there seemed no need for a man to have a special musk or whatever it was to get her half-sister into bed. Maggie, too, picked up on it in an instant.

Hope concluded that in further researching for his book, Nash would have easier access to people who were extremely interested in him, whereas those same people would probably turn other researchers away. That last consideration counted heavily in his favor.

Hope then accepted another probability: Lisa had been drawn to Nash's sexuality. It would explain why she had frequently positioned herself very close to him and twice had come to dinner dressed only in a nightdress which she'd never done before. Then, on that final evening Lisa had behaved so much like a cat on heat that Hope had thought about throwing a bucket of water over her until coming up with the idea of having her daughter sleep in her room on her final evening at home. Gratitude for being saved from a nasty situation on a city street was one thing, but if gratitude was a factor in Lisa's behavior it had upgraded itself into something tantamount to passion.

* * *

Not long after midday on Sunday -- a day ruined by a strong and blustery wind -- the Chevy turned up the drive and Hope, wearing one of her formal dresses, rushed out to warmly greet the arrival: Nash has fetched his mother to meet Hope and enjoy a country-style luncheon.

Hope formally greeted the visitor and was immediately told by her neatly attired guest to call her Rose. Only newspaper delivery girls and people wanting money called her Mrs Carson, Rose laughed.

Rose handed across a bouquet of flowers from her garden, a big jar of guava jelly and a very expensive high fashion magazine published in Italy.

"Nash told me you dress like a princess."

"A dowager princess no doubt," giggled Hope and Nash moved off saying he'd get the drinks.

"Come into the orchard Maud -- sorry, Rose."

Rose laughed and said she appreciated humor like that. She exhibits a lively personality, her hair was silver with a dyed black 4 cm wide streak from her crown to her fringe -- a new style according to what Nash told Hope later. Rose's eye-lashes were even longer than the ones Lisa had when going out at nights. She was petite with an infectious laugh.

Hope said Rose appears far more affable than she had expected. Her impression was that women living in the inner city were very cultured and very correct and spoke in private school accents.

"Me, one of those?" Rose said, throwing an arm across her bust in mock shock and then breaking into a screeching rendition of a denial mimicking an imaginary 1920s unwashed, uneducated street urchin from Liverpool.

Wiping her eyes wet with unrestrained laughter, Hope walked towards the orchard asking, "Are you from England?"

"I was born in the north. My father had been a music hall comedian in his younger day and after that became a tour bus driver, one of the most popular ones around because of his humor.

"One day one of his passengers told him to pack up and come to a new job at the man's big baseball stadium in New York, which involved whipping up the enthusiasm of the crowd before the start of the big game. Dad said sorry, but he could not leave his wife and two children behind, but was told the job offer included total payment of the relocation of the entire family and a largish apartment at a very low rental. From there he went into radio and then on to TV, hosting mainly talent quests. The production unit was short of a filler one day so dad gets mum to rush me to the studio where I was auditioned and was on the show that night, age eight, singing a popular country and western number in a horrible English accent. I bought the house down and viewers kept phoning in wanting to hear me sing again, so I was given the opening 'warm up' spot on the show for eight weeks, bringing in enough money to set me up in music lessons for two years and some new dresses for me and mum. It was a memorable period in my life."

"That's wonderful," Hope smiled, "Now excuse me for a moment but although it's windy today it's quite sheltered in here -- we can either go inside or try here. What do you think?"

"Oh, here please. So this is what Nash calls the apple green and very airy interview room?"

"I suppose so, we do our interviews here but I've never heard him call it anything else but the orchard."

"Oh, that boy is such a tease."

"Drinks, ladies."

"Thank you Nash. You stay and talk with your mother. She and I have decided it's okay to eat out here. I'll bring lunch down."

"No, you sit here and enjoy mum's company, Hope. She has quite a wit and quite a way with her. I'll get everything down in a tick; just have a couple of phone calls to make."

"Well I never," says his mother. "Nash offering to do something extensive like this? Usually he's such a lazy sod and barely lifts a finger. He doesn't usually jump into the breach like that unless he...Oh, gawd."

"What were you about to say?"

"It doesn't matter, it's a tad embarrassing."

"No, don't hold out on me. Say it, please."

"Unless he fancies a person."

Hope blushed trying to suppress a laugh. Rose watched amused until the dam broke and they both laughed without restraint.

"I'm telling you, if he tried anything like that on me he'd get my working boot right up his backside."

"Good for you, Hope. These young people, all they seem to think about is sex and who to do it with. In our day we attached ourselves to a bloke and then got on working to make ends meet, didn't we? And usually they only got to base when they deserved it."

"Yes, and weren't most men going steady such deserving cases in our days," Hope laughed.

"Care to share the joke?" Nash invited, arriving with a table cloth over his shoulder and a small tray groaning under a load of dishes with place mats separating them.

"Christ, Nash, that's my best crystal you've got heaped up there," Hope said, turning pale.

"Be careful, Nash," his mother said. "It should be all right; he will have worked it out and tested for stability before setting off down the stairs. He'd even tested the sturdiness of the tray and taken a close look at the handles. Nash is excellent at that sort of thing. I'd guess he's tried to bring everything down in one shot but couldn't find a tray large enough. You'll probably find the salt and pepper shakers in one pocket, serviettes in the others."

Both women watched hawked-eyed as Nash put the tray carefully on the side of the barbecue, politely declining offers of assistance. He placed the table cloth over the table and then fetched across the four salads, two at a time, then a bowl of diced cold potatoes and another of quartered tomatoes and onions. Neither woman expression changed when Nash took the salt and pepper shakers, serviettes and two tubes of different salad dressings from his pockets.

"Be back in a second. We still need the wine, glasses and the salmon."

The women grinned as he went off.

After lunch had been cleared Nash returned with coffee and chocolates and asked if anything else was required.

"No, only your company," Hope said kindly. "Congratulations, you served an excellent meal."

"Thank you but I need some exercise. I think I'll walk Monty for a bit. He'll be pissed off being chained up for the past two hours. You girls can then yap your hearts out."

"Off you go, you cheeky bugger," his mother said fondly.

Confessing to not know much about Nash's background -- that he didn't offer so she hadn't pressed -- Hope invited Rose to enlighten her, if she were comfortable about that.

"He's my youngest. My husband Dan turned into a queer and lives with a guy in the South Island. Mae my oldest child is twenty-eight, married to a manager of a wood processing plant out of Napier and they have twins who have just started school. Ross is a professional golfer at present playing on the Japanese circuit; he's thinking of throwing it all away, buying a yacht and sailing around the world with his Japanese fiancée."

"They sound very nice children. So how old were the children when your husband left home?"

"Eighteen, sixteen and fifteen. Ross was about to leave home and Mae married the next year, so that just left my young singing buddy and me."

"Your what?"

"Nash, my singing buddy. Haven't you heard him? He's great."

"No, I haven't. I wasn't even aware that he could hold a tune."

"Oh, there we go again. He'd such a lazy sod. Somebody has to have everything set up and invite him to join in for him to get off his butt. As he sings only country and western not a lot of folk do the asking."

"Goodness, any other surprises?"

"I don't think so, not unless you're into golf, he plays off a ten I think and like Ross he's got this ability to attract women. I use to think that Ross had got hold of an after-shave with some kind of female bait mixed into it -- a cocktail of pheromones, perhaps. But he always denied it and I got the feeling Nash didn't even know what I was talking about. He thought girls came to our place to see him because there were so many of guys they didn't like -- always a smart thinker is Nash."

"So they both grew up girl crazy?"

"No, neither of them seemed particularly bothered by girls. They liked them and both said girls were more interesting than boys, but neither was really strong into girls sexually, as far as I could see. I kept them supplied with the necessary protection, but I can't recall them ever asking for more. I just kept dropping the occasional dozen pack into their socks drawers, thinking they were too embarrassed to ask for a top up."

"So, Nash grew up in female company."

"Oh no, as soon as Ross cleared off I installed a man into my bed and when one relationship broke down I would commence another."

Hope topped up the coffee cups and congratulated Rose on being so pragmatic.

"I suppose young Nash accepted he had a lot of uncles?"

"No, there was no deception -- he knew the installed one as 'mum's lover' but to his face would address them as Mr So-and-So. Some were kind to him, some indifferent, and one or two knocked him around a bit, me sometimes as well. But that's life and with each guy it only happened the once, because I'd say, 'If you ever again hit my kid like that I will slice your balls out while you're asleep.' One guy took off within two minutes, never to be seen again and never having his smart lounge suite and brand new refrigerator collected or notifying that it be sent on to him. One or two others slept uneasily for a few nights while others though I was bluffing, but they decided not to test me."

"Would you have done it?"

"No, I probably would have just slit their wrist and had them rushed off to hospital alleging they tried to commit suicide in my bed after being unable to get an erection three nights running. I'd thought about it see -- if I'd cut them out and had the stones in my hand, what would I do with them? Feed them to the cat?"

"You're a real hoot, Rose, but I can sympathize and really understand your predicament. Men can be such bastards."

"Yes, and women can be too."

"True, so did Nash grow up resenting the fact that his father was alive and not living with him to take him skiing, to football and all those sorts of things?"

"Yes, but the anger gradually evaporated but my feeling is nothing has filled the hollow that's left in his soul. The right woman might complete his transition into manhood. I have wondered if it might be you -- he's always talking about you."

"Christ, don't go wishing that on me, Rose. I'm old enough to be his mother and, curiously, my life has been a little like yours. In recent years I've maintained a little line-up of men who come in handy. If I were to favor one male there could be a lynching."

They laugh without restraint; Nash appeared with Monty and asked if they'd like to share the joke. He's firmly told it was only girls' talk.

Nash enquired if his mother has offered to sing one of her favorite songs to Hope, who looked surprised.

"She hadn't offered."

"You have to ask her otherwise you wouldn't be aware she does this for people she likes. She's a bit lazy like that."

"Just like you and golf"

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Nash.

"Rose, I would be honored if you would sing to me. What do I need to provide -- we don't have a CD player but we do have a piano upstairs?"

"It's cool, Hope. She's pretty good at singing unaccompanied."

"That's fine, but I want you to sing along with her, Nash."

"Huh?" he said in surprise, then turned to Rose and growled, "Mum, you and your big mouth."

They sing 'Me & Bobby McGee' and 'Have I Told You Lately That I Love You'. Rose said she'd sing one more, provided Hope joined them.

"That was amazing, really lovely," Hope said, eyes flashing. "Sorry, but I'm really not into country and western music."

"You must know one C&W song," Nash wheedled.

"Home on the Range?"

"Great, one of my favorites," Rose smiled.

"Here we go," she said, taking Hope's hands in hers. "One, two, three..."

Before the song finished Hope is singing full throttle, and enjoying it.

"Come on, just one more time," she smiled, and off they went again.

As they walked to the Chevy, Rose reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a wrapped CD.

"Here, Hope, this is for you. Five years ago I hired a studio and recorded my favourite twenty-one songs out of the scores and scores that I used to sing. Have it as a keepsake."

Hope ripped it open and gasped at the cover photograph of a very pretty young woman.

"That was me, aged twenty-two and believing I was singing my way to be signed up for Nashville, but I was not good enough. By the way, a photo of the real me, taken five years ago, is on the back cover."

"That's lovely; I'll treasure it and will play it, regularly. There is a CD player is Lisa's room that I am supposed not to touch -- she is my twenty-four year old in Sydney. Do you mind waiting a minute, I've just thought of something."

She returned carrying an old 78 rpm album. She handed it to Rose who looked bewildered.

"It's yours, to remember me by."

"B-b-but I can't accept this. It's an early Gene Autry, in mint condition. You could get hundreds and hundreds of dollars for this from a collector in the States."

"I don't want the money, Rose. I want you to accept it as a little gift of possible interest."

Rose hugged Hope. "I shall treasure it, but we'll meet again, soon. It has been so wonderful being here with you and seeing the orchard room."

"Oh darn, I didn't show you through the house."

"No worries, Hope. Some other time, huh?"

Hope was on her sun loafer in the orchard when Nash returned from taking his mother home. She said 'Hi' as he walked towards her and said, "What was that for?" when he kissed her gently on both cheeks.

"For being so nice to mum. She enjoyed herself and was burbling on about you all the way into the city. You've got quite a fan there."

"That's lovely, and thanks for being nice to me. But now I have a bone to pick with you. Why didn't you tell me you play golf? You knew that I was scratching for a partner last Sunday."

"You didn't ask me."

"Nash!"

"All right," he said, brushing back his hair. "I knew you were struggling to get a partner as many of the men were away on an inter-club. But Hope, I am with you almost all of your waking hours -- you need breathing space, to be in your chosen environment, where you fit."

"I needed a partner, Nash, but fortunately I got one. Well, now for Sunday week you need one. My regular partner Neven Bronkovic and I will be challenging you and your partner at 1:21 on Sunday, the losers having to pay for the winners' drinks and dinner. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Oh, all right, but I don't have my clubs. I sold them before coming up here."

"No problem, we have hire sets at the club."

"Also I don't have a partner."