Hello from the Gillespies Read Online Free PDF

Joan says there’s been some jealousy too. I can’t blame any of them. I’m also worried about the woolshed party. I don’t know for sure if everyone will still come. Or if there’ll be some kind of a protest if they do.
    It’s not just the mining deal Nick won’t talk about. He and I don’t seem to be able to talk about anything any more. It’s as if he’s closed himself off from me. All he seems to care about these days is his family research. It’s become an obsession. He spends hours on the computer every day, reading articles about Irish and Australian history, ordering history books online, emailing Gillespies in all corners of the globe, tracing his Irish ancestors as far back as he can. He even seems to be talking about organising an international Gillespie reunion. Not here on Errigal, but in Ireland. I overheard him talking to his aunt Celia on the phone. That came as a huge shock to me too. He’s never even travelled outside Australia before. I’ve been waiting for him to talk to me about it, but he hasn’t said a word.
    I just don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking that all of this is my fault, that there is something I should have noticed, something I should have helped him with, before it got this bad between us. He’s a different man these days. I feel like I don’t know him any more. It’s not just that he won’t talk to me. Everything is different with him now. He was always so active, up at dawn, outside all day. Now that we’re not a working station any more, now that we don’t have any stock, it’s as if he has lost interest in the outside world. He does the basic maintenance work that needs to be done, but that’s it. It’s been months since he went in to Hawker to have a beer with his friends. I think if it was up to him, he’d cancel the woolshed party too – even though we’ve been waiting for our turn again for years, and it’s one of the biggest annual events out here. I’m worried that he won’t even join us for the party. If he can’t talk to his own wife, his own family, how will he talk to his neighbours?
    Angela had to stop there and decide whether she wanted to put what else she believed into words. After a moment, she started typing again.
    That’s not all. I think he might be having an affair. It’s only a cyber-affair so far, but I am sure something is going on. Her name is Carol. She’s in Ireland. She works for an ancestry website. That’s all I know about her, but he seems to be skyping and emailing her constantly. I don’t know what to do about that either. How to stop it happening. How to fix our marriage.
    Her sudden tears took her by surprise. She had to blink them away before she could keep typing.
    I can’t stop thinking about how good it used to be with him, what we used to have. I’m not imagining it. It was special between us. He was my best friend. Now, he and I scarcely say good morning any more. We don’t spend any time with each other, even though we are in the same house. When the children are away, we can be the only two people for literally hundreds of kilometres, yet it feels like we’ve got nothing left to say to each other. I miss him so much, but I don’t know how to make things better.
    It feels so selfish to say this, but to make matters worse, his elderly aunt Celia is coming to stay, for a whole month at Christmas time. I feel sick at the thought. Not just that we’ll have someone staying with us for so long, but that it’s her. I’ve tried, I really have, but she doesn’t like me. She never has. The truth is, I don’t like her either. If I were asked to sum her up, I’d say this: she’s an insufferable snob and an interfering old bat. I’m sorry to be so harsh but it’s true. I’ve never met anyone with so much to say, and all of it critical. She stayed with us for a fortnight earlier this year, around the time of her eightieth birthday. I hosted a lunch for her, inviting some of our neighbours to join us,