Julianne moved in with her ‘old-school’ father during the pandemic. She never left 

Warning: this story contains sensitive content.

When she was a child, Julianne Christie, 54, an economist turned gilder and penmaker, found her dad Jim, 86, reserved. Living together in the NSW Southern Highlands has changed all that.

Julianne: Dad was in the army, but he also worked as an antique restorer. He and my mother split up when I was six. On weekends, when my sister and I went to Dad’s place, I’d spend time with him in his backyard workshop. I had some pretty awful things happening in my life. The man who was my mother’s second husband was abusive in every sense of the word. I was threatened with all sorts of terrible things if I told that secret, which is classic control behaviour by perpetrators. Dad’s workshop was a kind of haven. It felt peaceful and calm. It was somewhere I could just puddle about, tidying up and sweeping up the shavings. To this day, I love the smell of sawdust.

I planned to go into the army like Dad, but it turned out I’m really good with numbers and I ended up becoming an economist specialising in regional development. Then, in my 30s, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease – primary biliary cholangitis – and, within three years, I was told that I needed a liver transplant. After the surgery, Dad phoned the hospital. I was off my face on painkillers, but I remember that at the end of the call I said, “I love you, Dad,” and he said, “I love you too.” Which was unusual because Dad’s old-school. He’s stoic and reserved. He’s never really been one to have deep and meaningful conversations, though I think it’s been easier for him to connect with me emotionally since I’ve been living with him.

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After that first transplant, in 2006, I got brave enough to press charges against my mother’s second husband. Autoimmune diseases can be triggered by stress, so I held him partly responsible for my illness. I was so angry. I decided to stand up to the person who’d hurt me. I’d kept all my diaries from when I was a kid, and it was all there – what he’d done. The court accepted a plea deal: he pleaded guilty to the lesser charges, not the bigger ones. He would have gone to jail but, on the day he was supposed to go back to court for sentencing, he gassed himself in his car.

I had my second transplant in 2018. When the pandemic started in 2020 and we had to go into lockdown, I was living at Windsor [in north-west Sydney]. I’d have been quite happy to stay home and watch Netflix, but I didn’t want Dad to be on his own, so I came to stay with him, and I’ve been here ever since.

Living together has changed our relationship. We’re not just father and daughter now, but really good friends. I love Dad’s brain – his knowledge and his wisdom. We laugh every day. He tells me about his army days and the shenanigans that used to happen. I knew Dad was a practical joker, but I didn’t know the extent of it. I learnt gilding after I had to give up my office job. I love it. Doing delicate work with my hands is very meditative. Dad and I spend a lot of time in his workshop. I’ve found all the peace I need, so it isn’t an escape place for me any more. But I still like cleaning it up like I did when I was 10.

Jim: When the pandemic started, Julianne put up a proposal: “OK, we’re isolated. How about I come to your place and we can be isolated together?” That was fine as far as I was concerned. It just developed from there, the idea of her staying here.

I’ve got to know Julianne better than I ever did before. I’d have to say that when she was a child, I didn’t know her very well at all. There were a lot of years when we didn’t really have much contact. It probably wasn’t until she had the first transplant that we started to be in closer touch.

Julianne has had a hard life. She didn’t tell me she’d been abused as a child until around the time she decided to go to the police. I was stunned. Speechless, pretty much. I couldn’t believe that such a thing could have been going on. To go to the authorities with something like this, knowing the huge battles that were likely to be ahead of her – it would have been very traumatic. But she’s a strong person. Brave. And determined.

Julianne comes across as an extrovert, bubbling over with life. But she’s not always like that. She’s definitely not a morning person, so you don’t load her up with problems early in the day. After she’s had her cup of tea, which I make for her every morning, she rapidly improves. Within about an hour, you can discuss anything with her. We design and make pens together, and a lot of tossing around of ideas comes into that. We’re both Taureans and Taureans are analytical, so we analyse problems and find solutions.

When I was on my own and couldn’t be bothered cooking, I’d just empty a sachet of porridge into a bowl. The food’s improved since Julianne has been here. I call her cooking “exotic”. She’s always been adventurous and curious. She comes up with different ideas and I say, “Yeah, let’s give it a go.”

I started to get into antique restoration and conservation while I was in the army. Julianne has caught the bug. She’ll see something like a 19th-century front door for sale and she’ll say, “Righto, let’s go and get it.” So we drive way out into the boondocks somewhere and pick up this door. One night, at close to midnight, she suddenly lets out a yell and says, “Come on, we’re going to pick up a chair.” Someone had put out an Edwardian chair to be collected the next morning in a council clean-up. It was in pretty good order, actually. Why people chuck out things like that I don’t know.

Our happiest times are probably in the workshop. She teaches me gilding. I teach her woodwork. I’ve passed on all the basic carpentry skills – how to use a hand plane, cut with a hand saw and so on. More recently, I taught her how to use a lathe – and I bought her one of her own as a surprise present. She’s a good pupil, but we need to do a whole lot more. I’m not going to live forever, and there’s a heap of stuff I’ve got to teach her yet.

Support is available from the National Sexual Assault, Domestic and Family Violence Counselling Service 1800 RESPECT or Kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800. Support is also available from : Lifeline 13 11 14.

twoofus@goodweekend.com.au