She fled to the other side of the sitting room where the bookcase lined the wall.
‘Rosetta...’ Royston’s voice filtered through to her softly. ‘Sit down for a second. These cards look very promising.’
Rosetta gulped. ‘Promising?’ She halted and put down the photo album, then turned and made her way back to the couch.
‘The Lovers card,’ said Royston with a knowing nod. ‘Just as I thought.’
Rosetta took in the golds and reds of the 1910-designed tarot. The card depicted a nude couple standing apart. An angel, whose hair looked more ’70s punk than early twentieth-century up-do, hovered between them. Rosetta frowned at the angel. ‘Hope that’s a chaperone. Who knows what they were about to get up to?’ Despite the card prompting concerns about teenage sex, the Johnny Rotten celestial messenger was comforting in an odd sort of way.
Royston was thoughtful. ‘I never noticed this before, but the man and woman on this tarot must be Adam and Eve. See the apple tree in the background? Shame about the absence of fig-leaves.’
He then turned over the second card, the Two of Cups, a picture of a fully-clothed couple about to clink wineglasses. Its representation of innocent love—a friendship blossoming gradually into romance—heartened Rosetta a little. ‘Exactly,’ said Royston. ‘The beginning of a romance.’
Rosetta covered her face with her hands and groaned. ‘What am I doing asking the tarots? I’m stupidly putting off the inevitable, that’s what I’m doing.’ It was time she acted; went ahead with that last resort. The police. Fighting back tears, she rose from her seat. She moved to the other side of the room again, murmuring, ‘I’m getting those photos now.’
‘I’ve turned over the last one,’ Royston said. ‘And wow! Do you know what I got?’
Past caring, Rosetta turned to face Royston. He held up the Three of Cups, a card that conveyed a trio of dancing curly-haired women in flowing robes, each raising a goblet of ridiculously large proportions.
‘I feel it’s saying you’ll be celebrating Izzie’s return tonight. The taller one is you, and the smaller one is Izzie—both of you with ’80s perms—and this one on the left-hand-side...’—Royston affected a small, meek smile—‘...is me.’ He glided a hand over his shiny scalp. ‘Back when I had hair.’
Drearily, Rosetta said, ‘Fantastic choice of frock.’
Perversely, the image of Royston, herself and the prodigal daughter skipping together daintily in Grecian garb, and toasting a triumph with goblets capable of holding a good litre of Moet, seemed all of a sudden hilarious.
The build-up of hand-wringing emotions caught up with her then. Her laughter flew out of control. She slapped her knee and folded forward, gasping and giggling all at once in a laugh that had a beginning and middle, but no end. Royston’s stunned stare made her laugh all the more. The chortles she was unable to kerb would have been far more at home in the throat of an unhinged kookaburra. But the whoops of hilarity changed direction. They melted into sobs, into huge wracking waves of fear that insisted on washing away hope.
After what seemed like a terrible waste of searching time, Rosetta dried her tears and headed for the phone.
A key jangled in the lock. The front door squeaked open…and a dishevelled Izzie ran into the sitting room.
Rosetta and Royston screeched in unison. Royston knocked the coffee table as he jumped to his feet. The cards tumbled off, scattering the floor in a sweep of colour. Rosetta trampled over them in her rush to Izzie.
Hugs, tears, smiles.
Rosetta, like a magpie mother in springtime, swooped on her daughter with reprimands. Izzie gabbled an explanation, something to do with a boy from school who lived near the beach and made great vegetable stir-fries. Rosetta wiped away tears and laughed again, although this time quietly. Her treasured daughter was safe and sound and back where she belonged.
‘So you’ve got a new boyfriend,’ Royston said, after hugging the pretty redhead fiercely and wagging a finger at her. ‘Your old “Mumsie” here, wouldn’t believe me, but I felt sure this was the case.’
‘Kind of,’ said Izzie. ‘It’s kind of hard to explain. Glorion’s...Well he’s...he mightn’t be here for very long.’ She contemplated the floor. ‘Mum, I’m really sorry I left my phone behind. Firstly I forgot to call. And when I remembered, Glorion talked me into letting him cook dinner, so I forgot again and then...we had to run...had to run to get a cab because I realised I didn’t have my phone and you’d be worried. The taxi driver thought we said somewhere in Wollongong and took us in the wrong direction.’
‘Just don’t ever do it again. Ever!’
‘Promise I never, ever will.’
‘And he’s called Glory-Lon,’ Rosetta said. ‘So unusual.’
Izzie’s blue-grey irises slid sideways. ‘It’s actually Glorion.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Royston. ‘Glorion. Sounds foreign.’
‘Dutch,’ Izzie said.
Royston then leapt into a quirky little tap dance and launched into song.
‘He’s not an Aussie, is he Izzie?
He’s not an Aussie, is he, eh?
Is it because he’s not an Aussie
That he makes you dizzy, Izzie?’
‘Where’d you get that one Roystie?’ said the wide-eyed teen.
‘From a 1920s Flotsam and Jetsam record I have at home. My interpretation. Embellishments added to match the current situation.’
Rosetta pressed the side of her head against Izzie’s, and they both giggled.
‘Well,’ said Izzie. ‘In answer to your tongue-twister, Royston, he’s not an Aussie. He’s a foreign exchange student.’
‘So that’s why you asked me last Friday Fortnight whether your future boy would be from overseas!’
‘Hey! That was confidential. Between you and me only.’
Rosetta patted her daughter’s back and hugged her once more. ‘Thank God you’re home.’
‘I had a beautiful birthday,’ Izzie said, and her eyes were like stars.
‘Ah, look at you,’ Rosetta cooed. ‘Bitten by the love bug. I left some tofu laksa in the saucepan for you to heat up.’
‘Thanks, Mum, I’m starved.’
‘Between you with your Taurus Sun Sign, honey, and me with my Taurus Rising Sign, I don’t think we’d ever allow ourselves to go hungry.’ She turned to exchange a grin with Royston, but he was busy readjusting a shoe that the impromptu choreography loosened. ‘We two girls never seem to lose our appetites, Royston. Not even when we’re sick.’ She shot Izzie a sly glance. ‘Or love-sick’
‘I am not lovesick.’ Izzie, hands-on-hips, was clearly impatient with the cheesy references to her budding romance.
Clasping Royston’s arm, Rosetta chuckled conspiratorially at Izzie’s reaction, then told him, ‘I’ve made plenty of laksa. I’ll go and get you some.’’
‘No thanks, darl. Already had dinner and I’ll be pushing off soon.’
‘Easter cake then?’
‘Lovey, I’m fine.’
‘Baklava? I’ve got some lovely baklava there.’
‘Rosetta!’ Royston rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘This must be the fourth time since I arrived that you’ve offered me food and drink. Much as I appreciate your concern, I’m not hungry, my love. And it’s too late for coffee. Even for decaf.’
‘Blame it on my Greek upbringing. As I’ve told you millions of times before, we’re programmed from an early age to push food onto people. They’re the reason I’m plump. A childhood of indulgence European style. That’s my excuse.’
Royston gave a nod in Izzie’s direction and bulged his eyes. ‘And European Glorion cooked Izzie-Whizzy dinner,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve got a point there, Rosetta, about Euro food-pushing. Clearly, he held her there against her will until she ate every morsel. That’s why you’re late home, isn’t it now, birthday girl?’
Izzie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Leg-roped me to a chair and insisted I tuck into a gourmet meal. Scariest dinner of my life.’ Izzie
gave Royston a peck on the cheek and excused herself. ‘Thanks for worrying, both of you. Sorry for being such a pain.’
Once Izzie had bounded off to the kitchen, Royston inclined his head to the verandah. ‘Can I speak to you about something?’
Surprised at the urgent tone in Royston’s voice, Rosetta opened the door and led him out. The darkened neighbourhood felt cosy once more, a contrast to the forbidding stretch of emptiness it became when Izzie was gone. Maybe Royston intuited something not quite right with Izzie. Surely not! Izzie was okay. More than okay. Happy as anything in fact.
Royston, standing within the glare of the hanging light globe, ran a hand over his whiskers, a pained expression wrapped across his forehead. More bad news? She’d had enough letdowns today, with the loss of her living situation, Crystal Consciousness going broke, the impending birth of a litter of felines, and five of Izzie’s friends saying they had no idea where she was.
He began with: ‘The pot-luck lunch at my place. Bit of a laugh, wasn’t it?’
What was going on with Royston? Was his relationship with Darren still okay? ‘Heaps of fun, Royston,’ Rosetta said. ‘You were the perfect host as always. You never told me what you thought of Adam.’
Adam Harrow back in her good books! His persuasiveness on the phone that afternoon was nothing short of impressive. No harm in meeting up one last time, she supposed. And if he happened to be moody again...she’d be there on the spot, able to tell him straight that she wouldn’t put up with any spoilt-boy insolence.
Royston looked at the floorboards and stuck his head to the side. ‘Hmmm,’ he said.
‘What’s wrong? What didn’t you like? If it’s about us having to leave early, I take full responsibility for that. Adam’s a busy man. He had to prepare for a ten-day business trip.’
‘Hm.’
‘Gee, Royston. I’m really sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have left when Adam did.’
‘Don’t be silly, Rosetta. If you’ve started seeing someone you’ll naturally want to be with them more than with us. It was lovely you made the effort in fact. That’s not what I want to talk to you about.’
‘What is it then?’
Royston rolled his eyes upwards, searchingly, as though the exact words he wanted were pinned in the eaves. ‘Er...About Adam. How well do you know this fella?’
Feeling as though she were being interrogated by her overly protective foster father, Rosetta replied, ‘Enough to make my own decisions. We’re going out again on Saturday. He rang from Vanuatu.’
‘I hate to have to do this Rosetta, hate it, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t admit what’s troubling me.’ Royston drew in a deep breath and sighed. ‘It concerns this new man of yours.’
Chapter Sixteen
Rosetta’s heart lurched. ‘This is about Adam? Why? What happened?’
Silence.
The feeling of being squeezed through a mangle.
When Rosetta spoke again, her voice felt separate, as though at a distance. ‘Tell me, Royston.’
‘How do I put this?’ Royston turned away and then turned back. ‘When I was in the kitchen making up our coffee at the pot-luck lunch, I pulled out the cannister of sugar, and then Soozi, Craig’s new girlfriend, found the cannister of coffee etcetera, and then she went up the hall to the linen-press to find a fresh tea-towel and, well you see, Darren had put the tea higher up, on top of my raspberry preserves.’ Royston gave a nod and raised his eyebrows.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, Royston, what’s that got to do with Adam?’
‘I’m getting to that. It’s not easy telling you this. What happened, was...well, it was to do with the tea cannister. Your Adam came up and he...offered to help, and...well, Adam whispered—’
‘Whispered? To you? In what way?’
‘Not to me, to Soozi, when she was reaching for the tea. He must have thought I’d gone, but I’d only ducked into the laundry to grab an oven mitt. Anyway, when I returned he was all over Soozi, pretending to be of help. He deliberately brushed against her when he retrieved the tea cannister. Then he said something rather pathetic.’
‘In a whisper to Soozi.’
‘In a whisper to Soozi, yes.’
Trying to detach herself from what had been revealed, Rosetta stared at Royston. ‘What was said?’
‘Something about hooking up sometime. I won’t repeat the exact phrase Adam used. It was utterly distasteful.’
Rosetta felt nauseated. Weak. In a small, weary voice she asked how Soozi had dealt with the situation.
‘She dealt with it quite confidently. Said to Adam, “Aren’t you here with Rosetta?” I couldn’t believe what Adam said next. He said, “No, I’m actually not,” and then he tried to convince her that you and he were only friends. Soozi had the last say. She said, “Well I’m here with Craig, and I think you’re a dishonest slime,” and she marched out, so that left Adam and me in the kitchen, standing opposite each other.’
‘I see,’ Rosetta said numbly. Poor Soozi, faced with behaviour like that! Dishonest slime was an understatement.
Royston crossed his arms. ‘So I ploughed forward and made myself heard. I told him where to go, basically. Said, “How dare you treat my friends like this.” He’s not your type at all, Rosetta. He’s a phoney.’
‘We were going to eat out at Chavelles,’ she said, surprised to find her voice cracking.
Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t be a sook.
And yet the tears over Izzie going missing seemed not to have left. Royston enfolded her in a hug. Relenting once more to the feelings Angus had sparked fifteen years earlier when he’d deserted her for someone comparatively slimmer, she wept into Royston’s thin shoulder.
‘Just think, darlin’,’ Royston said. ‘Painful and all as it is, the veil has lifted now.’
‘Ah, well.’ Ashamed at her blubbering outburst, Rosetta swiftly dried her eyes. ‘It wasn’t like I was madly in love with him or anything. I was falling though.’
‘You were falling for an idealised image, Rosetta, not for him. Besides, even when you didn’t know he was a two-timing low-life, do you think he treated you well?’
Rosetta fixed her teary gaze on the chink of light beneath the front door opposite, a blurred and washed-out rectangle. ‘No.’ She gulped. ‘Not really. I kept...kept waiting. Kept hoping that he’d...I don’t know. He wasn’t how I’d imagined he’d be.’
While resisting Adam hadn’t been easy the last time she’d been out with him, the moment she became separate from all that nearness, the moment those churlish demands turned into discomforting echoes, she’d ceased to regret her haughty departure. He’d been poor company. He’d let her down. A pattern had emerged; Adam only being attentive once he’d dropped her home, a transparent attempt at being invited in.
Rosetta told Royston how Adam hadn’t known much about her and hadn’t bothered to ask. Prior to getting acquainted with him, she had frequently visited his workplace. Adam’s office was on Level Twenty-three of the Metro building, the same office Rosetta cleaned in tandem with Jack Barnaby, not that she’d ever mentioned that to Adam. His knowing her as a lowly retail assistant was humiliating enough. Apart from working in the same location and the fact that they’d both toured the Greek Isles in the early ’90s, she and Adam had very little in common. They were poles apart; spiritually, economically, and, as she’d discovered this evening, ethically as well.
Encouraged by Royston’s tsking, Rosetta went on. ‘All those months of wanting to date him, and then there was this giant so-what factor when it happened. He had an emptiness about him.’ She dabbed again at her lashes with the back of her wrist. ‘And he was a difficult person to get to know. In the three times we went out he never wanted to spend much time with me. He’d neglect to buy me a drink, then he’d go and talk to someone else. And then he’d want us to leave really really early.’
‘Why did you tolerate that?’ Royston had his professional counsellor’s voice on now.
&nbs
p; ‘I’m getting less fussy in my old age, Royston.’
‘That’s ridiculous, Rosetta. You must think better of yourself.’
‘But since I hit thirty-eight it’s been a joke in the dating department. Nowadays it’s slim pickings.’
‘Rubbish. You’ve had plenty more opportunities than a lot of women your age. Slim pickings, my arse.’
‘It’s true. Men “pick” “slim” women to ask out. They don’t want weighty old me. It’s slim pickings! And when Adam came along I guess I was amazed that anyone as attractive as he is could take an interest.’
‘And you’d up until then liked Adam from a distance,’ said Royston understandingly. ‘So you would have been extremely flattered by the time he asked you out.’
‘Too flattered. And too willing to overlook inconsistencies.’ What had happened to her vow in the coffee shop earlier in the day? That steely resolve to give up on Adam Harrow had sneakily grown legs and scurried away!
‘From now on,’ Royston said, ‘I don’t want to see a minute more of this passive damsel stuff. I don’t want to see a friend of mine enduring a date’s bad attitude just because she thinks she’s undesirable and he happens to have made overtures.’
‘And as you, and Soozi, and I have discovered, he’s very good at making these overtures.’ Rosetta shook her head again, annoyed with herself for not having spotted Adam’s fickleness.
‘Don’t ever think you can’t do better,’ Royston commanded. ‘Claim back your inner goddess and get back to being the gutsy girl I used to know. And...Newsflash: your extra weight doesn’t detract from your beauty. It just adds to your va-va-voom.’
‘Such a sweet compliment, Royston! I think you’re right about me letting my standards slip.’
‘It’s the same for all women. If they don’t expect enough for themselves, they end up fodder for sharks like Having-a-Bob-Each-Way Harrow. Nothing wrong with being fussy.’
‘Fussy! That was one of Mama’s favourite descriptions of me. She was furious when I told Thaddeus Georgioupolis that I’d never go fishing with him.’ Her foster mother’s outraged squawks could only be regarded as funny now. Back then, though, Rosetta had been hot-headedly indignant.
The Golding Page 40