‘So how long are you in Perth?’ Saskia asked her.
‘Not too long. I’ve gotta get back to the farm.’
‘It sounds like you really like it, Cate,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised.’
Cate grinned. ‘So am I. But it’s not a permanent move. I’m just helping out while my aunt is sick.’
‘Well I’m impressed,’ Saskia said. ‘I didn’t think you could be that far from the action!’
Cate caught Henry’s eye. And then she was laughing, a lot, even at the stories she knew really well, even at the stories about herself, drunk, stoned, falling down, showing up at the wrong bar, on the wrong day, and having a fucking blast anyway. She stole some of Henry’s whisky sour, knocked it back, and pulled a face as it hit her throat, while he smiled at her with his eyebrows raised. She rolled her eyes. It was time he met the real girl. She had just been pretending before and now here she was. And she wasn’t even going to apologise. He could get over it.
The music started to kick in, pressing into the crowd, the back beat rubbing up against them and the bassline smoothing it out, and the girls were laughing along with her without missing a beat. She could do this, she knew how. Another bottle of champagne and she was suddenly standing with her arm loosely linked around Patrick-Henry’s, while the girls looked on. She was laughing, she could hear herself laughing, but even then she couldn’t stop the feeling that there was a cold white silence somewhere deep within her, like her heart was made of alabaster.
She excused herself for a moment and wandered away; she saw Henry’s gaze clock where she was going, but for a reason she didn’t want to understand she was glad to get away from all of them. The music was lifting, its rhythm pulsing through the crowd, and the old lampshades tossed golden light about the room that bounced off the windows and the tiny chandeliers on the walls.
She found one of the large bay windows and sat in it, looking out over the city lights and breathing the cool night air. For the first time she could remember, she was tired of them. They were fun, good-time girls who knew the latest drinks and the latest spots. She glanced back over the crowd and imagined Brigit was there, laughing with them all, insisting they have another drink, ducking out to the toilets for a second, then dancing like a maniac and hugging strangers like anybody cared, like anyone would remember her name once she was gone.
She was playing her old game. Perhaps Brigit was just there, right behind her in the dim light of the bar, and she was drinking champagne and smiling at Cate, waiting for her to turn around, and when she did, she’d say, Bloody hell, Cate! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for ages! And they’d chat about boys and clothes and stupid stories they’d heard about other people’s lives. And Brigit would never ask her where her life was going, or why she couldn’t find a man to settle on, or whether she was finally going to go to uni to study something. She would laugh and love her, whatever she did, whatever she said. She was safe and kind, and Cate stood, frozen with the thought of her, not moving in case the spell was broken and she disappeared again from the shadows, where she could never be seen. Finally, she raised her glass and turned around, took another sip, knowing that it would never taste the same again, that Brigit wasn’t standing behind her – she was cremated.
Cate let her eyes fall over the happy crowd. She didn’t want to go back to her friends and talk about boys and bags. She didn’t want one more conversation about hair or parties or fashion. Maybe Brigit had taken that with her. She sighed. Her head was swimming, and she was going home. As she stood, Patrick-Henry found her, almost looming over her in his crisp dark suit.
‘Are you okay, Cate?’ he asked quietly, his hand on her shoulder.
She nodded. ‘Of course. But I think I’ll be off.’
He looked worried. ‘So soon? I’ll drive you.’
‘No thanks, I’ll get a taxi.’
He ignored her, just looked back at her as if he was waiting for the right answer, his dark eyes upon her.
‘I said no thanks, I’ll get a taxi.’
‘No you won’t. I’ll drive you.’ She shrugged him away. ‘Hey, Cate – what is it?’ His voice was softer now.
‘I don’t know. I guess I’m just surprised nothing has changed, that’s all. Brigit died because of me, and no one is furious with me, or disgusted by me. No one seems to care enough about her. It’s like she didn’t matter.’
He gripped her hands more firmly. ‘You can’t say that – Brigit matters a lot. I’m sure she touched a lot of lives – and she touched yours so hard on the way out that you’ll never be the same again.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the door. ‘Don’t worry about other people. You can’t tell how they’re really feeling – that’s not up to you.’ They were approaching the door when Madonna rushed up to them.
‘Cate! Are you leaving already?’
Cate nodded. ‘Sorry, Madge, bit tired.’
‘Well, I hope you’ll be back in Perth soon. You make sure you call me – I worry about you, darl. You think too much.’ She hugged her. ‘That’s from Brigit,’ she whispered, and disappeared into the crowd.
There was a pause while Patrick-Henry and Cate regarded each other, and her anger seeped away. He was a mystery to her, and there he stood, tall and impossibly handsome, waiting for her to speak like he had nothing better to do. Maybe the swagman fitted in here better than she thought, and she didn’t belong here as much as she remembered.
‘Why do you want to drive me home?’ she asked.
‘It’s what I do,’ he said simply.
She sighed. ‘Where’s the Red Dragon?’ she grumbled. ‘Has it transformed magically into a Porsche?’
He smiled and she had the uninterrupted and completely delightful view of his face.
‘Nah, he’s parked up the road. He’s probably trying to chat up a Hyundai Excel who’s totally out of his league.’
He gestured for her to walk with him, without touching her again. She turned to glimpse the girls gathered around a couple of new guys, and smiled. She wouldn’t bother going over to say goodbye. It would take too long, and she was already gone.
He opened the door for her, and she gingerly climbed onto the seat of indeterminate purpose. ‘Ah, the Red Dragon. I love what you’ve done with the place.’
He was climbing in next to her. ‘Yeah, well, he has year-round views.’
‘Is that how long you’ve been on the road?’
‘Bit longer. Not much.’
She glanced about. ‘Well, I don’t think your suit is going to last in here for long.’
‘Nah, but ah well, it’s only stuff.’ He massaged the car to life, and the pale headlights illuminated his face. He knew where to go. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the engine and the rhythm of the traffic.
‘Hey, Patrick,’ she said into the silence.
‘What?’
‘Can I call you Henry?’
She heard him smile. ‘Yep.’
She kept her eyes closed, and she smiled, too.
They drove quietly then, moving safely through the city streets, punctuated by the patient click of the indicator and the soft sound of his hands on the wheel, until eventually he stopped the car. ‘We’re here,’ he murmured, as if he was afraid of waking her, and she opened her eyes once more.
They sat for a long time without speaking, and she could just make out the sound of his breath as he stared into the night. She risked a glance at his hands, absent-mindedly tapping at the steering wheel, and wondered what he was thinking. She wondered what she was thinking, too, trying not to look at his profile in the dim light.
‘Hey, Henry?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Why are you here?’
‘For you.’
‘Henry . . .’
‘Yeah?’
‘That’s a bad idea.’ There was a long pause, and a couple of cars passed by, flooding them with golden light for a moment, before the night pushed back again.
‘I k
now.’
Reluctantly, she opened the door and climbed out, and, after another moment, he followed and leaned on the Red Dragon, watching her make it safely to her front door.
This was her old house. She had moved out long ago and now she was back because she had only been renting a room with some friends she’d met at one of her many careers before she’d moved to the farm. She didn’t really want to go inside. The lights were on, and it was only eleven-thirty, so maybe her parents were still up. She glanced back at him, watching her in the gloom, and felt a slow wave of loneliness tugging at her heart.
She sighed. She wasn’t sure what to do about him, and she was tired, because living in the country had turned her into a middle-aged woman, and she needed a cocoa and a nice soft bed, which was way more than she’d get on the farm.
CHAPTER 24
The next morning, Cate was feeling great. Early night and only a few drinks. She wrinkled her face in confusion. Holy hell. Henry had shaved and worn clothes. And who was looking after the chooks? Not Mac, she thought. She climbed out of bed and went to make breakfast, checking her phone to find a text from Alex.
Hey – where did u go? I brought chocolate to your house – yes – chocolate . . .
She was still grinning at the phone when she entered the warm kitchen.
‘Morning, Cate,’ her mother said, looking up from the paper. ‘Good night?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, it was fun to see the girls again.’ She put on the kettle and looked for the coffee grinder.
‘Did Patrick find you?’
‘Huh?’
There it was. And here was the percolator. She sniffed the coffee beans. They’d do.
‘Patrick. That handsome young man who came here last night. Works as a consultant?’
‘Oh. Him. Yes, he did. He was a little late because he’s been in Sydney for a while working on some sort of . . . merger. Poor guy was tired.’ There, she could pretend anything. Any time, to anyone.
Her mother shook out her paper. ‘He seemed very nice.’
‘Yeah, he’s very nice. Sometimes he’s a bit of a workaholic though.’ And sometimes she could even amuse herself while she did it. ‘Tell me about Aunty Ida,’ she said quietly as she sat down.
Her mother put down her paper. ‘She’s not good, Cate. I don’t know that she can come to the farm. She’s permanently short of breath and she’s likely to have another heart attack if she isn’t very, very careful. Your father and I want her to have the double bypass. Her cardiologist thinks it may help.’ She took Cate’s hand so that Cate could really understand her. ‘But in the meantime, she needs to be here, where she’s safe.’
‘What if the surgery doesn’t work, Mum? What happens then?’
‘Well, then we have the best hospitals here, and she’ll get the best care possible.’
Cate felt her heart sink. ‘But maybe I can take her back every so often, just for a week or so at a time? If I’m careful?’
Her mother looked sorry. ‘I don’t think so, darling. What if something happened out there?’ She picked up her cup of tea. ‘But we’ll see. There’s always hope.’
Cate nodded. ‘Well, I’m going to make a few changes to her house, just in case,’ she said. ‘That way, if she can come home, at least she’ll be comfortable.’
‘Yes, you do that, darling, but don’t be too disappointed if she can’t make the journey.’ There was a movement behind them, and Ida shuffled out.
‘Good morning, dear,’ she said. ‘Did you have a nice time last night?’
Cate smiled. ‘Yes I did. Now, how are you feeling today?’
‘Oh, much better today, thanks, dear,’ Ida said. She was pretty good at pretending stuff, too.
She looked smaller, here in the city, Cate thought, like the busy world outside the door was moving too fast, and its indifference to her had sucked a little more life from her tired heart. Ida moved more slowly here, more tentatively, and Cate noticed she was still wearing the bright dressing gown she had borrowed from her mother. It had cats on it. Ida hated cats. And she really wasn’t a dressing-gown person, either. She was a jump out of bed, straight into your clothes and get on with the day person. But here she was, tottering to the armchair, staring out of the window like she was trying to remember something. Her parents talked around her, usually. They discussed their business of the day and ignored her, then raised their voices and asked her how she was almost hourly, like they were waiting for her appointment with death. It was depressing, and Ida had noticed.
Her face was determinedly pleasant, but she was no fool. She knew her niece and nephew had no idea what to say to her, had few memories to share, couldn’t guess what interested her or what would make her laugh. She was alone, but worse, she felt she had to be polite about it. Her tired old face was a mask, locked into appreciation for everything that was being done for her, while her soul was crumbling gently and privately into dust in the living room.
Cate was embarrassed by her parents, which certainly made a change, but as she smiled encouragingly at Ida, she told herself that this was only temporary.
There was a knock at the door. Cate ran to open it.
Henry.
‘Oh, look,’ she said pointedly. ‘It’s Patrick. How are you feeling after your week in Sydney, Patrick?’
He shot her a pained glance, I’ve been to Sydney? Why?
‘I’m feeling great, thanks, Cate. I thought I’d like to come over and meet your family properly, if that’s okay. I’ve gotta get back to the office later.’
Cate took his arm. ‘Sure, sure, that sounds great.’ She brought him inside. ‘I’m afraid Dad plays golf on a Sunday, but as you know, this is my mother, Claire, and this is my great-aunt, Ida.’ Cate rolled her eyes significantly at Ida, but she wasn’t sure if she caught it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice he was Henry and her parents wouldn’t freak. Out. Totally.
‘Ida,’ he said warmly, shaking her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He turned and chatted briefly with her mother, while Cate moved uneasily from foot to foot, watching Ida’s face. She’d have to recognise the voice.
‘How long have you been seeing Cate?’ her mother asked. ‘We haven’t heard her mention you before.’
‘Mum, don’t give the poor man the third degree. He mistakenly believes I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.’
Her mother looked at her archly, as if to say, He’ll learn. Thank you.
Ida leaned forward. ‘So tell me about yourself, Patrick,’ she said, patting the lounge beside her. Good old stick. Cate relaxed slightly and settled in for a chat. Henry looked very relaxed.
‘You’re looking much better than I would’ve thought – Cate told me you have heart trouble,’ he said. ‘Does city living agree with you?’
She made a sour face. ‘Not much. I’d like to go home as soon as possible. Deirdre tells me she’s intending to go over and help fix up the house, so I can.’
Cate grinned. Word travelled fast. She glanced at her mother, whose lips pursed disapprovingly. Well, she thought, it didn’t hurt to try.
It was strange having Henry in her house. She didn’t really want him there, but then she didn’t really want to be there herself. He was leaning forward talking softly to Ida; if her mother noticed anything strange, she certainly didn’t mention it. Her mother was mostly quite good at ignoring the things Cate would rather she didn’t see. She had learned to look the other way whenever she could, and perhaps that was what she was doing when the phone rang and she went to the office to sort out a network outage at the university library.
Cate watched Henry’s face. He looked so gentle she couldn’t believe she had ever found him intimidating. Maybe the beard helped. She perched next to him.
‘When are you going back?’ she murmured.
‘I’m leaving now – I just wanted to see Ida before I go.’
She nodded.
‘Are you coming soon?’ he asked. In that moment she wished she was going with him. She had had
enough of the city for a while.
‘I’ll stay till tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘Don’t forget to feed the chooks.’
He smiled and stood.
‘I’ve gotta go now, Ida,’ he said quietly, ‘but I hope to see you back on the farm very soon. We’re working towards it.’
Ida beamed.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
‘Thank you, Henry,’ she said. ‘That gives me great comfort.’
‘Say goodbye to your mum for me,’ he told Cate.
‘Sure,’ she said.
He gestured for her to lead the way. It was starting to feel like a date. She took him out to the Red Dragon, and they stood there regarding each other in the driveway with their hands in their pockets.
‘So, how are you?’ he asked.
‘Fine, I’m fine,’ she answered.
‘You seemed a bit down before,’ he said.
‘Maybe. It happens.’
‘Can I help?’
She looked at him. With what exactly? she thought. She glanced at his chin. Slight stubble.
He caught her and smiled. ‘I’m going back to my original look,’ he explained. ‘This one isn’t working for me.’
‘Well, it’s easier to tell which direction you’re facing, for starters,’ she said.
‘But believe me, it’s working for you.’ There was a long pause, and Cate began to glance up and down the street, as if she was waiting for a bus. He had said he had come for her. No one had ever said that before, and it was too bad, because the timing was all wrong and he was totally the wrong guy. Her life was a wreck and she didn’t know where she’d be in a year’s time, or where he’d be, for that matter. And yet here he was. Watching her think about him. And it looked like he was thinking about her, too.
‘Okay,’ he said, almost to himself. He dropped carelessly into the front seat of the Dragon and fired him up. It was time to go. He hung an elbow out of the window and quickly swung onto the road, then held up a hand in farewell and was gone. It didn’t take much imagination to believe that he’d grown quite good at leaving over the year or more he’d been on the road. That was a whole lot of leaving. Practice made perfect, she guessed.
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