Parallel Lives Read online

  Parallel Lives

  Narelle Minton

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  Parallel Lives

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Copyright Information

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter 11970

  Chapter 21945

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 41970

  Chapter 51945

  Chapter 61970

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 81945

  Chapter 91970

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 121946

  Chapter 131970

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 161971

  Chapter 171973

  Chapter 181974

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 231949

  Chapter 241981

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 421950

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 441982

  Chapter 451951

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 491982

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 571984

  Chapter 581994

  Chapter 591999

  About the Author

  Narelle is a humanitarian and keen traveller. She has worked as a social worker in Australia, U.K., Sri Lanka and Botswana. She has also done voluntary work in Papua New Guinea and India. Her passion for understanding the nature of people, the influence of different cultures and life experiences on them has formed the basis of her writing. A short story and various articles appear in a number of publications. This is her first novel.

  She has three sons and nine grandchildren. She lives in Canberra, where she enjoys painting, walking and current affairs’ discussions.

  About the Book

  Two young women face similar challenges in creating meaningful lives for themselves. Yet mother and daughter, embedded in different cultures and times, are influenced to make decisions that draw them apart.

  Delyth, in 1945 Wales, faces the return of a husband damaged by war. After a successful career in his absence, she puts aside her own needs to care for him, something that has its own challenges.

  Her daughter, Natalie, also affected by the behaviour of her father, starts university in Sydney in 1970, determined to find her own direction and be free of him. However, away from home, the New Age values of self-actualisation and free love, as well as the Vietnam War, have a major impact on her life. Despite her efforts to be independent and to follow her dream to help the unfortunate in foreign countries, Natalie discovers she remains tied to her parents.

  Both women struggle to fill a void within until something happens to change everything.

  Dedication

  To Lilly-Ann

  Copyright Information

  Copyright © Narelle Minton (2019)

  The right of Narelle Minton to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781528935562 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781528968317 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  Acknowledgement

  Thanks to Graeme Farmer, Helen Topor, Susan Wilson, Kate Forsyth, Joan Hoogstad, Nicole Murphy, Haydn Willetts, Barbara Stanilewicz, Mike Lewis, Mia Lewis, Keri Thomas and the drinkers at the Colliers Arms, all of whom provided information and support.

  Chapter 1

  1970

  Seventeen-year-old Natalie was sprawled across the back seat of the green 1962 Holden sedan. That was the way she liked to travel when she was trapped in the car with her parents. Then she could focus her attention on the tops of Eucalypts as they flashed past. That way, she escaped into the world beyond, at times, imagining herself drift across continents. On this occasion, she found herself in Biafra. The blistering heat bore down on her. Sweat ran down her limbs. She staggered through the sand, heavy underfoot. Everything was dry and barren. The stench of disease and death hung in the air as she came upon a group of sparsely clad, scrawny, black people. The whining of starving children penetrated her very being. Real people, living off scraps like stray dogs. Flies buzzed around the eyes of whimpering babies. Natalie offered what she could – a little food and comfort. She nursed babies, giving mothers a brief respite from the heavy burdens they had to bear because no one cared. Yes, she understood pain and despair.

  “Natalie, sit up straight. Get your feet off Karen. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Begrudgingly, Natalie sat up. Yes, Dad, I know. Karen doesn’t care. She’s asleep. Natalie gazed out the window at the new freeway and the cars speeding by. It was an impressive construction through the mountain, much better than the old Hawkesbury turns where they’d always had to stop for Karen to be sick beside the car. It wouldn’t be too long now until they reached Sydney. Dad was driving about 15 miles an hour over the speed limit, as usual. At least he hadn’t been drinking on this occasion and she didn’t feel too unsafe.

  Dad turned his head toward Mum. His hair, trimmed short, was now greying and starting to thin on top. “It’s hard to believe, Delyth, it’s seventeen years since we built our house in Newcastle and had our little girl.”

  I’m not a little girl any more. I’m an adult and, at last, I’m leaving home and starting my own life.

  It took a while for Mum to reply. Her head, with its tightly permed, black curls looked out the window, then at Dad. “I wanted a baby so much, Gwyn, for so long, and now we’re losing her.”

  Mum, don’t carry on.

  “We thought we were going to have to send her to boarding school to bring her into line. She always had a mind of her own, not obedient like Karen.”

  You always threatened to send me off to boarding school. How do you think that made me feel? I know you didn’t want me. I never fitted in.

  “You know, Gwyn, I never could bear to send her away.”

  I’m here you know. Just keep talking about me as if I don’t exist. They always had. They’d never bothered to get to know who she was or what her views were on anything. ‘A good girl always does as she’s told.’ She’d given up telling them what she thought long ago. She’d sit there silently as usual. But, just wait until I’m free.

  “It’ll be strange not going to Her Majesty’s Theatre to see a show like we usually do when
we come to Sydney. Not even a visit to the Cross.”

  Natalie loved King’s Cross. All those exotic-looking people, the prostitutes in their sexy clothes and overdone makeup, hanging about outside strip-joints. Loud music, dynamic energy and bright lights. So intoxicating. Now they’d be on her doorstep.

  “Yes dear, I think I’ll need to go straight home. I’m not in the mood for anything else.”

  ‘Yes, dear.’ It’s always ‘yes dear’, even when you don’t agree. Have an opinion. Stick up for yourself. No man’s going to push me around. I’m sick of watching you bowing and scraping to Dad. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch him criticising you in front of everyone when he was drunk, calling you a spoil-sport when you wouldn’t dance around the lounge-room floor with him. Remember the time he put you on the drink trolley at the Hydro Majestic and wheeled you around the dance floor in front of everyone. How do you think I felt watching my own mother being humiliated? Mum never knew because Natalie was never game to say anything. ‘Treat your parents with respect. Do as you’re told. Be a good girl.’ Seventeen years of being a good girl, now it was her turn to live her own way.

  Natalie looked across at Karen, still asleep, with her long, brown hair curling gracefully down her slim body. She often envied her placid nature, like their mother’s. Everyone told Natalie she was like her father. That was the last thing she wanted to hear.

  After this, I’ll never have to sit in the back-seat behind them again. My life’s about to begin. I’m going to make a difference.

  The car made its way through the congested streets of Sydney. For once Dad didn’t get lost and end up crossing the harbour bridge two or three times. They turned off Anzac Parade into a quiet street beside the University of NSW. Cars were parked along both sides of the street but they managed to find a space.

  As Dad got out of the driver’s seat and went to the boot to get her suitcase, Natalie felt unexpected apprehension. She was disoriented, almost shaky, as she got out of the car. It was like alighting from a boat and finding yourself on firm ground that felt like it was swaying. Natalie lagged behind the others as they made their way along the concrete path beside the manicured lawn and then through the shadow created by the dark-coloured brick residential blocks, where ivy grew up the walls. Within the grounds of Goldstein College, it was eerily quiet, sombre, detached from the real world. She could still hear the sound of passing traffic, other people going about their normal lives as if nothing had changed. She followed her family into a small glass-fronted office at the far corner of the first building. An elderly lady with grey permed hair, rinsed with purple, stood up from behind the desk to greet them. She looked like her old school principal. Dad walked forward with a charming smile and shook her hand. Natalie remained behind her parents while the smartly dressed lady reeled off information that Natalie didn’t take in. Dad collected her room-key and she signed her name in shaky letters below a number of others in a big, lined book.

  They walked across the empty quadrangle, through double glass doors and up the cold, concrete steps to the first floor. She dawdled behind the others, as they navigated the corridor to a room near the middle. Dad opened the blue painted door and led the way in, plonking her case on the bed. With the four of them inside, there didn’t seem to be enough space.

  “There’s no T.V.,” piped up Karen.

  Mum looked at Natalie through glassy, red-rimmed eyes. “Just as well you’ve got your little transistor.”

  Dad put his arm around Mum. He turned to Natalie. “You’ve got all you need here. That’s a good-sized desk to do your work on.” He looked at Mum. “We’d better get going. We’ve got a long drive back to Newcastle.” He gave Natalie a quick peck on the cheek. Mum put her arms around her and kissed her, all the time looking at the floor.

  Karen was still checking the desk drawers. “Look, a Gideon’s Bible.” She turned around to see her parents already on the way out the door and followed them, quietly closing the door behind her.

  Natalie dragged the suitcase off the bed and dumped it onto the dull, brown, commercial-style carpet, giving herself space to sit on the blue, chenille bedspread. The room was suddenly big and empty. She listened for the sound of other students but could hear nothing.

  She stood back up and walked to the window. The receding figures of her parents and sister were about to disappear around the corner of the residential block opposite. The three of them were still a family. The gap that had been her had closed, with them continuing without her. She wanted to chase after them. Wait for me. They were gone and she was left behind.

  Natalie looked around the room. It was square and white and sterile. White built-in cupboards took up one wall and the other three were white painted concrete. Three planks of wood attached to the wall above the desk comprised a book-case. The desk was big and square and black, also attached to the wall. It looked like an office desk. The window didn’t have any curtains, just brown timber Venetian blinds. Against the remaining wall was the single bed. She lifted the brown, Bakelite ash-tray from the desk and put it in the bottom drawer. I won’t need that.

  Natalie opened her case and rummaged through it until she found the old teddy she’d stuffed down the bottom. She collapsed onto the bed, clutching it, letting her mind drift back to that special time when she was twelve, and Santa had given her a pony for Christmas. That had been her first taste of real freedom, riding through Blackbutt Reserve, feeling the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the breeze on her skin. She’d watch the flickering leaves, their shadows moving across the track. How she’d loved that pony. Galloping Splint through the trees, on occasion at break-neck speeds, she’d lie low over the pony’s back as she careered over fallen logs and twisted through the undergrowth. The two had been as one in their escapades, with an almost innate understanding of each other. At other times, they’d creep along isolated tracks deep into the bush, with only the sounds of twittering birds and Splint’s footsteps. Tall trees surrounded them, almost climbing over each other to reach the light. How tiny and insignificant she’d been in comparison. Yet, she’d been driven by the same life-force, the will to survive against all odds. She was a part of that whole, the God within all life. Sometimes she’d wondered what’d be left if she was able to separate herself completely from the way she’d been taught to behave, if she could discover that inner being and be totally true to herself. Can my life be an expression of my soul, just as the trees express theirs in all their glory?

  Natalie arose from the bed and sauntered over to the window to take another look. Nothing of interest there. She picked up her key, put it into the pocket of her jeans and left the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. Walking along the corridor, she stopped to inspect the ladies’ showers and toilets. Um, fairly ordinary – boring grey tiles. Three showers with white curtains across them and four toilets. She continued down a flight of stairs, where she opened a door marked ‘Common Room’, to be greeted by the disgusting stench of stale cigarettes. Three students were reading newspapers. Natalie retreated. She’d explore the university grounds instead. Once outside, she proceeded down a hill along a straight concrete path. Ugly blocks of brick buildings on either side dwarfed her. A number of sealed roads criss-crossed the campus. Tar and cement. Students, mostly in pairs or small groups, engrossed in conversation, passed by. Others walked alone or sat on nearby benches, sometimes reading, immersed in their own worlds. Natalie tried to catch an eye, to say ‘hello’ or even just to offer a friendly smile but no one acknowledged her.

  She returned to college to prepare herself for dinner. Students, wearing black undergraduate gowns, were already queuing in the building opposite. After a quick tidy up, she donned her gown and joined them. As she edged her way up the queue, cooking odours wafted from the kitchen. Is that over-stewed cabbage? I’ll have to make the best of it. No home cooking for a while. As she entered the kitchen, Natalie took a tray from the pile and served herself with a main meal and dessert from those on display. As
an afterthought, she picked up an apple for later. A uniformed woman tapped her on the shoulder. “You’re permitted either a sweet or a piece of fruit.” Natalie hastily returned the apple and followed other students into an imposing, dark hall, where the clatter of cutlery competed with the sound of conversation. Long, timber tables had benches on either side. It must be modelled on dining rooms in traditional English universities. Gowned students sitting in rows are totally out of place here. Any kind of comfort or homeliness was absent. Natalie sat beside some students to eat. The thinly cut steak was tough and overcooked like the soggy vegetables, most of the frozen variety. She felt too awkward and disheartened to engage in conversation.

  After the meal, she returned to the Common Room, now invaded by raucous music. Young people, mostly men, laughed and shouted to each other to be heard. Alcohol was flowing freely. Natalie hesitated and then entered through a haze of smoke. She sat down on an empty chair and before long accepted a glass of wine and a proffered cigarette, her first ever. I hope I don’t choke on it and make a fool of myself. I won’t inhale too much. That’s a relief – no choking. After that, it seemed easy to let someone fill her wine glass and give her another cigarette. This isn’t so bad after all.

  A group was playing 500. Natalie plopped herself in a seat behind one of the players. She groaned. That’s definitely the wrong card to play. Of course, you lost the hand playing like that. Oh, not again! Next time he was about to make a mistake, Natalie leant forward, pointing to an alternative card. He took no notice, losing again.