Revealed: KillJoy

Okay. Let's start with the easy stuff.

Do you have a photo of your mum - Carolyn?

Sure.

This is my mum - Carolyn.

I remember looking at it and being like, "I wonder if she was happy."

I knew that every person that I ever met

was eventually going to ask me...

where my mum was.

And... I dreaded it.

Because I didn't want to have to explain

the whole situation.

I felt a lot of shame around it.

Just having to deal with other people's reactions

or responses or opinions,

or hold their anger, confusion, disgust, pain,

surprise, awkwardness, or their silence.

Sometimes I would make things up.

Would just say a different...

cause of death, um, that seemed, like, simpler.

It was somewhere between "I don't want to talk about it"

and just lying about the way she died.

But the truth is...

my dad killed my mum.

I was three months old.

My life was just always

in the shadow of this horrible tragedy.

Because I was never told anything,

I've always wanted to know what happened,

how it happened, why it happened.

To keep knowing until somehow I can make it better.

I would never want this to happen to anybody.

But...

I am who I am because of it.

Mm-hm.

I came to know Carolyn probably about two...

well, about two years before all of this happened.

Uh, my name is Jill Brodie.

Um, I met Carolyn when I was in my late twenties.

Um, and she was a wonderful teacher.

Amazing musician. Kind.

And, of course, physically, she was so beautiful.

My name's Vicki Sheaffe.

I was a good friend of Carolyn Stuckey

in our late twenties, early thirties.

Um, and now I'm sitting here at 71.

Yeah, we got scholarships to go to teachers' college

and we developed a very strong friendship.

We just clicked.

She was teaching our children at the time.

And they had known her all their short lives

and were very fond of her.

I can remember my son aged five

saying, "I love Mrs Stuckey, Mum."

You know? And he meant it.

I think she loved children.

I think, you know, you probably don't become a school teacher

if you don't love children.

She says, "I'm going to go into Miss Lismore."

And I thought, "Oh, good on you!" You know?

And the next thing, she's in the paper and she's won!

This one...

is where she was announced Miss Lismore.

And there's Jacki Weaver down there

with some guys going, "Heh, heh, heh," in the background.

It was a big thing. It was real prestigious to be, you know, Miss Lismore.

Oh, yeah. It was special.

So, yeah, she would've been easily recognisable.

Definitely.

She was the sort of woman

that people would turn around and look at.

But she was oblivious to her beauty.

She was oblivious to the effect she had on people.

I was with Carolyn at the Lismore Workers Club

and it was a Wednesday night

when she met her husband - Allan Stuckey.

I don't know whether he owned the pharmacy,

but he was certainly the principal in the pharmacy in Lismore.

And he was eight years older. So he was well placed.

We were only 18. You know?

We're going, "Who's this dude?" You know?

"Who's this dude coming over here?"

She was there for the picking, wasn't she?

She's a pretty little thing, big blue eyes, blonde hair.

Easily...

easily won over, I would say.

This one is, um, the two of them

and my dad's sister, uh, at their wedding.

I mean, the first thing I think is...

those sideburns were quite a statement.

Um...

Yeah, I mean, look,

it's a bit strange to look at wedding photos of them.

There's a lot of, like, hope and promise in that moment

of a future that...

would look a lot different than it turned out to look.

Um...

Her marriage to Allan Stuckey,

they just didn't, to me, and to a lot of people,

didn't seem to... mash together.

He was into tennis in a big way.

But, yeah, that wasn't her thing at all. No.

She was more literary and arty and music and... You know?

Different.

Yeah, they were chalk and cheese, really,

when you analyse it like that.

The Lismore Theatre Club

was a very kind of vibrant community.

I think it was a place where

a lot of people could kind of have some fun

and have this social connection.

Most of our friends at that time belonged to the Theatre Club.

And Carolyn had never previously been in the Theatre Club.

But I think she envied the fun we had.

And so she auditioned.

Is it cold being a ghost?

No, I don't think so.

What happens if I touch you?

I doubt if you can. Do you want to?

Oh, Elvira!

'Blithe Spirit' is a play written by Noel Coward.

It's about a man who is haunted by the ghost of his dead wife.

The ghost is played by my mum - Carolyn.

You are here, aren't you? You're not an illusion?

I may be an illusion, but I'm most definitely here.

And her husband is played by Allen Ennew.

You must promise me that in future

you'll only come and talk to me when I'm alone.

My dear Madame Arcati.

I'm afraid I'm rather late.

And also in this play was Allen's wife, Madeline,

who is playing a psychic.

I may have to go into a slight trance,

but if I do, pay no attention.

The last time I was here

was when 'Blithe Spirit' was a production.

Mmm. There's Dad.

It's a very typical 'Dad in Theatre Club' look.

There's Mum.

You know, my dad loved this place. He loved acting.

And Mum did too. She was a good actor.

There's the program there.

Who's in it.

And then...

a bunch of photos, so...

It's this one.

There's a couple like this, with Dad and Carolyn.

Just this moment caught where they're looking at each other

and I just go, "Yeah."

You know, that's the sort of vibe that my mum would've got hold of.

Because the emotions were real, right?

They weren't just acting.

I don't know all the details of what went on there.

But definitely a relationship was developing

and a friendship and an attraction.

The silliest thing I ever did in my whole life was to love you.

They say a grand passion is like an insanity,

and it was for both of them.

I came because the power of Charles's love

tugged and tugged and tugged at me.

Didn't it, my sweet?

Yes, there was a lot of sneaking around,

which happens in an affair.

But lots of presents and flowers and gifts.

I did have to keep a secret.

I could see how happy they both were.

I mean, I cared deeply for Madeline as well,

so that was very difficult.

The risks that Allen Ennew and Carolyn took,

the notes that were left on the telegraph pole at the end of the road,

on her car...

I saw one at the supermarket when I was there one day.

Walked past her car and there was one of these notes.

"My dearest, most precious Carolyn,

"I love you."

"You are a wonderful man.

"Kind, thoughtful, understanding."

"I love the thoughts of our ultimate togetherness,

"which I now see as inevitable."

Allen Ennew had moved out of his home

and had rented a little flat.

Madeline wasn't coping at all.

She lost a lot of weight very quickly.

I remember one day she told me she was going to kill herself.

I said, "Oh, you can't do that."

Her two boys were at university in Sydney.

Her daughter, Clare, was 18.

She said she couldn't be jilted,

she couldn't be left on her own

as someone left for the younger person.

She couldn't deal with that humiliation.

And I spoke to my GP, and he said what people used to say in those days.

He said, "Oh, if they talk about it, they don't do it."

And he was a well-meaning man,

but that was wrong.

Allen found the body.

And she'd organised so that Clare wasn't home that night.

And, sure enough, everything in the house was tip-top.

Food was made for her own funeral.

In her letter to me, 'cause she wrote suicide letters,

she told me not to blame my father, and, honestly, I don't.