by Cassie Hamer
‘I’m taking you to lunch,’ she announced, standing by Brianna’s desk.
‘I’ve already brought lunch,’ said Brianna, her eyes still glued to the screen.
‘I’m offering you a free lunch … Just take it.’ Alex had her hands on her hips.
‘You’re the one always saying there’s no such thing as a free lunch, especially for a woman,’ said the secretary.
‘There’s a caveat to that – when it’s being bought by another woman, especially if it’s the woman you work for. This is me, showing my appreciation for all you do for me.’ She shifted her weight. ‘Just let me buy you a damn sandwich, all right?’
‘Fine.’ She stopped typing. ‘But I’d actually prefer sushi.’
Alex stood at the entrance to the food court, packed with city workers on their lunch break. Sleeves rolled up. Ties loosened. A few smiles here and there.
Like prisoners on day release, thought Alex.
Her stomach grumbled like a garbage truck.
‘Was that you?’ said Brianna, eyebrows raised.
‘It’s fine. Just hunger. How about I get a table while you look around and decide what you want, then I’ll order and pay. Okay?’ She pointed to a nearby sushi place. ‘That’s where I go every day. It’s good.’
She took a seat and watched Brianna weave through the crowd. She moved with composure. Head held high. Back straight as a rod. A natural confidence. Instinctively, the crowds parted for her. Men and women alike.
Alex tugged at her waistband and covered her mouth to burp. Blood and coffee. Charming.
Brianna was back. ‘I’ll just have two tuna and avocado sushi rolls, thanks.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it.’
‘A little boring, don’t you think? This is the boss paying. Lash out. Live a little.’ Alex gripped the table and leant forward.
‘Well, what are you having?’ Brianna frowned.
Two pieces of salmon sashimi, three gyoza and one of those inside-out type rolls with raw tuna. And maybe a friand for dessert. Eating for two, after all.
Alex stopped. Raw fish. It was completely off the menu. She didn’t want to poison the poor foetus.
‘Um … well … actually.’ Alex looked around the food court. Burritos. They’d be fine, wouldn’t they. All cooked meat. Hang on, there was the lettuce and tomato sitting around in a bain marie … Right, fish and chips then. No salmonella could survive a deep fryer. On second thoughts, hadn’t she read something about high mercury levels in that type of fish. Strike that.
‘I’m … ah … I’m going to have a toasted cheddar cheese sandwich.’
‘So a toasted cheese sandwich now constitutes living a little?’ Brianna demanded.
‘Well, as it so happens …’ Alex stopped and allowed herself a little smile. She always got nervous before telling people she was pregnant. It was quite an intimate thing to reveal when you thought about it. Yes, my husband and I DO have sex and his sperm recently had a happy meeting with my eggs and now I’m KNOCKED UP!
‘I’m pregnant.’
Brianna looked at her and cocked her head. ‘Again?’
Alex opened and closed her mouth. ‘The usual response is congratulations, you know.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Brianna. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ said Alex, waving her hand dismissively. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter.’ She brought her hands into the prayer position. ‘I do have some other news that may interest you more. But it’s a secret. The baby thing is a secret too, but I have a feeling you won’t go round telling everyone.’
‘No,’ said Brianna. ‘I won’t.’
‘All right, well, the second bit of news is …’ She took a breath. ‘I’ve been asked by Rex Macauley to become a partner.’
‘Oh my god, that’s fucking amazing.’ Brianna clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I can’t believe I just said that,’ she whispered, eyes shining. ‘But it’s seriously very cool. Well done. You must be stoked. Just think about the work. We’re going to get the best matters.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘I can’t wait.’
Again, there was that we word. For a promotion that was ostensibly hers and hers alone, both James and Brianna seemed to be taking an awful lot of ownership over it.
‘Yes, well, I appreciate your enthusiasm. But there is the small matter of this baby to think about. And my other children. Not to mention my husband. Not quite sure when I’ll squeeze in time to see him … ’ She trailed off.
Brianna was staring at her. ‘You’re not seriously thinking of saying no are you?’ Her voice was hushed and urgent. ‘You can’t say no. This is … this is … everything.’ She raised her hands skywards and dropped them down again. ‘You can do this. You have to do this. Otherwise, what message does it send?’
‘It doesn’t send any message. It’s just a decision,’ said Alex. ‘My decision.’
Brianna violently shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. You’re smart, you’re incredibly ambitious and you can juggle a million things at once. If you can’t make this work, then what hope is there for the rest of us? This is just your guilt talking.’ Brianna nodded. ‘Yes, it is. If you were a man, you wouldn’t be talking about babies and children and husbands, you’d have already called an interior designer to deck out that fancy corner office you’re going to get when you say yes. You owe it to women everywhere to take this job.’ She tapped the table. ‘And you owe it to yourself.’
Alex sat back. Who was this passionate feminist firebrand before her? And where had her efficient, unemotional secretary gone?
‘Okay, well, I hadn’t really thought of it that way.’
Brianna’s eyes narrowed. ‘You should, you really should.’ She paused and stood up. ‘Right, now you’re going to give me fifty bucks and I’m going to order us one of those sushi platters over there.’ She pointed to a plate full of raw and exotic seafood, plus a few dumplings and sushi rolls. ‘And you are going to eat it because you don’t get bossed around by the pregnancy police. You are Alex O’Rourke, senior associate and incoming partner at one of the city’s most prestigious small-to-medium-sized law firms. You. Have. Got. This.’ Brianna clenched her fist and, buoyed by her enthusiasm, Alex produced her wallet with a flourish.
Brianna was right. She could do this. There were these people called nannies. She would hire one for the twins. Maybe a live-in. Give her and James the occasional date night. She would take six weeks maternity leave and no more. Work from home in that time. Get the nanny to bring the baby in for feeds.
Alex looked in her wallet while Brianna watched her expectantly, encouragingly.
Hang on. No cash, not a cent, and she knew her credit card was maxed out thanks to all the extra-curricular activities she’d just enrolled the boys in.
Yep, she really had this.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘So, if we factor in a kilo of mince, one bottle of passata, an onion, three carrots, maybe a zucchini just to up the vegie content …’ Cara scribbled furiously in her notebook. ‘And let’s say that serves six people, then our per-portion cost is roughly …’ She chewed the end of her pencil. ‘Two dollars fifty per person, give or take a few cents. And we could provide a green salad, the dressing separate, just some oil and vinegar to shake up and emulsify.’ She scribbled again. ‘Does that sound right to you?’ Cara paused and looked up. ‘Beth? Beth? Hello … earth to Beth.’ Her neighbour’s eyes were fixed on some distant spot over Cara’s shoulder, somewhere near the bougainvillea. She waved her hand. ‘Beth? Are you listening?’
‘Excuse me? Sorry. Say that again?’ Beth shook her head and refocused her gaze. ‘I’m ready now.’ She held up her pencil. ‘Still feeling the effects of that alcohol from last night. I really wish you and Alex hadn’t encouraged me to drink quite so much. I nearly disgraced myself at the swimming carnival today. It was awful.’ She shuddered.
Cara cocked her head. Did it matter if her recollection of the evening differed from Bet
h’s? Probably not. The poor woman’s eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks pale. ‘We can take a break, if you’d like. I think we’ve done pretty well for today.’ She ran her pencil down the list of things they’d already ticked off – a Facebook page, registration of the business name and a web domain, a basic web page, and an initial inquiry to council about what approvals they’d need.
‘Oh, I forgot to mention that because the shed is already registered as a licensed food premises, the council says we can start cooking out of here straight away. Isn’t that great?’
But Beth was staring off into the distance again.
Cara lightly touched her arm. ‘Tell me what’s going on with you. I can see there’s a problem. Did something happen after I left last night?’
Beth shook it off. ‘Of course not,’ she said briskly. ‘Just distracted and a little hungover, that’s all. I’m fine. Absolutely fine. Just tell me what you said again?’
‘Fine? That’s the four-letter f-word that women use when everything is far from okay.’ Cara felt herself colouring. ‘A nurse once told me that.’
Beth sighed, and let the pencil fall from her hands. ‘It’s this texting business … Max. I just can’t get it out of my head.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘At one point today, I actually thought maybe there was something going on between Max and Charlie.’
‘Charlie Devine? Why?’
‘Oh, just something Talia said … and the way they act when they’re together.’ Beth waved her hand. ‘But I can’t be sure. The phone numbers don’t match.’
‘You’ve checked?’
‘I asked Talia for her mum’s number on the pretext of sending her a message to say I’d given her a lift, but her mother’s just got a new number so I’m really none the wiser.’ Beth dropped her head into her hands. ‘Lying to a child like that,’ she muttered. ‘It’s awful.’
Cara waited. It was still light in Cuthbert Close but the shadows were just starting to lengthen in the garden. Poppy was inside, watching the half hour of television that she was allowed after her homework was done. A couple of crows wheeled overhead against the amber sky.
‘Perhaps it’s time to ask Max about the messages. Talk to him. Tell him you’re afraid,’ said Cara.
Beth violently shook her head. ‘No. No. I can’t do that. He’ll think I’ve been snooping. That I don’t trust him.’
‘But he has given you a reason not to trust him. All you’re doing is asking a question.’ Cara glanced briefly at her notepad. Oil and vinegar, she’d written. So many people thought they couldn’t mix. Not quite true. If you shook hard enough, the mixture blended eventually, not perfectly, but enough to spread tiny drops of one through the other. Emulsifying. Marrying. Oil and vinegar. Her mum and dad. Her and Pete. Opposites, in so many ways, but also a perfect marriage. It all came down to the effort. The hard work.
‘Surely it’s better to know the truth.’ Cara took her hand and squeezed. ‘You’re a strong woman. You’ll cross this bridge if it’s necessary.’
Beth sniffed and produced a tissue from her sleeve. ‘You’re right,’ she said, blowing.
‘Hello? Anyone home?’
Cara’s side gate squealed.
‘You expecting anyone?’ Beth sat up quickly, stuffing the tissue back into the sleeve of her cardigan.
‘No, not that I know—’ Cara clapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Oh, wait. It’s Will Parry. He wanted to check something.’
‘Check something?’
‘He didn’t say what.’
Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘Check up on his tenant perhaps?’
‘It’s not like that, I assure you.’
Cara took in Beth’s hopeful smile. She was such a hopeless romantic. No wonder Max’s behaviour was causing her so much grief. She really did believe in the happily ever after.
‘Right, well, I might just slip through the fence, if you don’t mind. Not really in the mood for small talk.’ She rose and kissed Cara lightly on the head. ‘Thank you for your wise counsel.’
‘Let me know how it goes,’ she called to Beth’s retreating back.
‘Cara, hi.’ Will Parry stood in her back garden, hands on hips. ‘Do you know that person crawling under your back fence?’ He craned his neck and Cara followed his gaze to see Beth’s feet disappearing through the small gap in the wood paling fence.
‘That’s my neighbour, Beth. Actually, my business partner as well. We’re going into the catering business.’
‘Really? Where?’
Cara laughed lightly. ‘Actually, you’re looking at it.’ She gestured to the old shed. ‘It’s already approved as a commercial kitchen, for my styling business.’
‘I presume you got landlord approval?’
‘Oh, yes, your father said we could do whatever we wanted. He was wonderful like that.’ Cara clasped her hands. ‘You should come to our tasting party next Monday night. We’re asking all the neighbours.’
Will grunted noncommitally and folded his arms. ‘We want to get the place painted before we sell.’ He produced a handful of colour swatches from his pocket. ‘My siblings want me to decide on a colour.’
At the word sell Cara felt a flicker of fear, but she put the emotion aside and remembered her manners. ‘Would you like some help?’ She rose from the chair and stepped closer. ‘I have a pretty good eye for that kind of thing.’
‘You want to help me? Even though this is all in aid of selling your home and forcing you out of it?’ Will’s gaze narrowed.
‘Your father was good to us.’ She shrugged. ‘Disrespecting his family would be disrespecting him.’
Will eyed her cautiously. ‘All right then. Tell me what you think.’ He held up the first colour swatch to the outside of the cottage and Cara touched the smooth painted brick, still warm from the heat of the sun.
‘Too white. See how it’s got these blue tones.’ She tapped the card. ‘The house needs something warmer.’
Will peered in closer. ‘Fair enough. What about this one?’ He held up a second swatch, this one a creamy off-white.
‘Better, but it’s quite pink, don’t you think? Here, I’ll hold it. You look.’
Will stepped back and tilted his head. ‘Too pink,’ he declared, producing a third swatch from his pocket. ‘This one should do it.’ He handed it to Cara and she turned the card thoughtfully.
‘This is definitely closer to the current colour.’ She held it up against the wall. ‘See how it has some warmth, but—’
‘It’s not too yellow,’ he finished.
‘I think you’re getting it.’ She smiled and handed back the swatch.
‘I don’t think my ex-wife would agree.’ He returned the swatch to his pocket.‘She’s a creative, like you … A graphic designer. Hated house painting. Once, we had to choose colours together, and she told me I was as creative as a tree stump.’
‘That seems a bit unfair on the tree stump,’ joked Cara.
Will’s face tensed, then broke into a smile. ‘That’s exactly what I told her.’ He looked about, as if ready to leave, but his feet stayed glued to the spot. ‘I guess that’s it then.’
‘Would you like a tea or coffee? I might even have a beer somewhere …’
‘No, no.’ He shook his head and jammed his hands into his pockets. ‘It’s … ah … well—’ He looked around at the garden. The sun had sunk further, bathing the cottage in honeyed rays and accentuating the already deep colours of pink and purple that littered the flower beds. ‘The place … well … it actually doesn’t look too bad at this time of day.’ His eyes roved across the space and he turned in it, slowly.
He’s searching for memories.
Cara was quiet. ‘You know you don’t have to sell,’ she began softly. ‘I’m starting this business so I can pay you more rent. Help to fix it up. Keep it in your family. It could be a wonderful investment, for the long term, and you get to hold on to a piece of your childhood,’ she finished in a rush.
And I get to hold onto Pete, while Poppy ge
ts to stay in the only home she’s ever known.
Will wheeled around. His face was in shadow, dark and hardened. ‘They’ll never agree to it.’ He shook his head.
‘Who’ll never agree?’
‘My brother and sister.’ He looked skywards. ‘Half brother and sister, I should say. Same mother, different father.’
‘Oh, I just assumed …’
‘My mum’s first husband died young. Really young. Left her with two little kids to raise alone. They were teenagers when Mum met Dad and they had me …’ He paused and stared at her. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’
‘Please don’t feel you have to.’ Cara waved her hand.
‘No, it’s like I need to.’ He threw his hands in the air. ‘I don’t know. Anyway, my siblings always resented me, even though Dad did nothing but love them as his own. Left us equal shares in the house. Everything he had he split evenly in the will.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, the point is. They want to sell, so we’re selling. End of story. I don’t want to give them another reason to hate me. This place is a money pit and, thanks to my divorce, I have no desire to fight over property ever again.’
As he spoke, Will had stepped closer to her. She felt the heat off him, the same way she’d felt the warmth off the house. Residual energy. Cara flinched. A light had come on in the house and it spilled across Will’s face. They both turned to its source.
It was just Poppy, going into her bedroom to get a book. She startled to see her mum and Will watching her, then waved happily before collapsing onto the bed and finding her page.
Cara felt Will resume his stillness as he watched, and then it was just the two of them on the outside, looking in at Poppy, so at ease and content in her surroundings that it made Cara’s heart feel too full for her chest.
‘I wish I’d had that as a kid,’ said Will softly.