She smiled proudly. ‘I did. I met Ray there. We moved to a small house in upstate New York. I painted during the day. We drank whisky at night and talked about life. We had sex on the rug, sex on the grass outside, we even got caught by the postman once!’ She laughed loudly.
‘Then I left Ray and New York five years later, and went to London. I painted there. And went to musicals and theatre and operas. I travelled to Paris. I was like you, Emma, exploring. I lived on a farm in France, and then the south coast down by the sea.’ She nodded. ‘I had an affair with a Frenchman, and it was intoxicating. We spent days in bed, he wrote poetry and read it out loud to me.’ She laughed again.
‘I was bolder and more adventurous over in Europe,’ I admitted. ‘I danced on a tabletop once. OK, more than once.’
Betty laughed and banged the table with both arthritic, soft-papered hands. ‘Damn right you did!’
I took a sip of my tea. The more I thought about it, the more I realised there were two types of people in this world. Some people were trees, they liked to put down roots, to stay. Tansy. Maggie. Murray was the biggest, oldest oak tree of them all. Never moving – and that made him completely happy. Trees were very good at having long-term permanent jobs and buying houses and having mortgages.
And it turned out some other people were birds, that liked to flit about, to roost for a while, then move, to keep changing with the seasons. They were flexible and adaptable and seekers of the out there (wherever that was). Like me.
Trees often thought birds should grow up to be a tree, when they matured, because being a bird was confused with being immature. Surely, the trees collectively thought, a bird will some day want what a tree has. But it wasn’t true! Would you ever look out of the window and hope that one day that beautiful dove or mischievous magpie would turn into a birch tree? Um, no.
Neither was wrong, or right, they were just different.
I roosted with Murray for a while – but in the end it wasn’t for me. I wanted to move, and he never did. What I really needed was another bird to fly around with.
Nick had been a bird too, a very terrible bird (maybe a vulture?) but a bird all the same.
I was a bird. A free-flying, move-when-the-seasons-change, non-well-behaved bird.
‘I’m a bird!’ I said to Betty, explaining my theory.
‘Yes! And I’m a bird too!’ She laughed. ‘I’m planning a trip to the Dolomites next year, because all these tree people around us …’ she waved her hand around ‘… can stifle a bird after a while.’
‘I don’t want to be a well-behaved woman,’ I admitted. ‘And I’m really rather bad at it. I turn up to work with chips in my hair. I drink too much on dates. I have showers with naked men I don’t know. I slept with my boss.’
‘Amen!’ she said. ‘That’s right. Have stories, not chores. Have joy, not “must-do’s”. Your worth isn’t based on matching up to anyone else’s expectations or approval. And if people don’t like what you’re doing, they’re not your people.’
She took another bite of cake.
‘So what do I do now?’ I asked her. ‘Get a new job? Move? I don’t know.’
‘Ah, my girl, you don’t need a house or a job to complete you. You just need you.’
‘I just need me.’ I said letting her words sink in. ‘I. Just. Need. Me.’ I swallowed the thought of what that meant.
She looked at me. ‘Get really quiet, and ask yourself: what do you want?’
I looked at her and laughed. ‘Is it really that simple?’
‘Yes. It is.’
‘Well, I think I’ve always known that. Deep down.’ I thought about travelling, about the country cottage, about being in the wild. Which was everything opposite to settling down in an office, and wearing white silk shirts and nude high heels. ‘I want to go to Alaska. And live in a cottage. With chickens.’
Betty laughed. ‘Did you say Alaska?’
I nodded. ‘Does it sound silly?’
‘Not at all. I’m laughing because this is perfect. In fact, I have a proposition for you.’
I sat up in my chair. ‘I’m listening.’
‘My sister Ruth lives over there. She’s also not a well-behaved woman and is full of great stories of travelling around India and Africa. But she’s getting on. She’s two years older than me. And she needs some help around the house, the garden. You’d be paid, of course. And you’ll get free accommodation, in a small cottage on the property – it’s lovely really. She did it up when she first moved there twenty years ago with a fireplace and two rooms, and a little breakfast nook that looks over the gardens. She has an apple orchard that needs picking and tending. And a large veggie garden, herbs too. Chickens. She sometimes fosters wolves that need rehabilitation, and dogs. She’s a bit dog mad. But really, she’s too old to do everything herself. And she’s been trying to find someone, a good fit, for ages, but she can’t. You’d be doing me and her a favour if you considered it. But there’s a lot of time too, for you to get another part-time job if you want extra money …’
‘Or paint,’ I said breathlessly, feeling as if my entire dream had just landed with a ‘plonk!’ in my lap.
‘Yes! What a wonderful idea! Paint! Do you paint?’
I looked her straight in the eye and said, ‘Yes, I do. Landscapes.’ It was the second time I’d confidently admitted it, and it felt rather wonderful.
Betty called the waitress over.
‘Another tea, madam?’
‘No, two glasses of Champagne.’
The waitress looked surprised. It was ten-thirty in the morning. I laughed as she scuttled off and we heard the POP! of a cork out the back.
When she returned with two glasses of perfect fizz, Betty held hers high. ‘I want you to remember this moment, Emma. To being anything but a well-behaved woman! And to Alaska!’
We said cheers, and when I took a sip the bubbles went up my nose and made me laugh.
On the way home, my phone beeped. It was a message from Betty – that little devil even had a mobile phone.
Ruth said to say, Welcome to Alaska. P.s. bring your paints and your wellies!
Chapter 26
On Monday I wore something different to work, something from deep within the Emma closet. Harnessing the essence of not being a well-behaved woman, there were no high heels. No black dress. No cinched in waist. Today I felt like wearing gladiator sandals, a floating floral-print dress, long feather earrings (bird status!) and my fingers were covered in small silver and turquoise rings.
I didn’t think about being suited and booted any more. I didn’t think about being like Donna Allbright. Professional Emma had left the building. It was just me, Emma Londstown, ‘EL’ from now on.
Sadie gave me a weird look up and down as I entered the atrium for the Monday morning event debrief. She was in a short red dress, tight with matching red lacquered heels.
‘Is this …’ she waved her hand across my outfit, looking confused ‘… ironic?’
‘Sure, Sadie, let’s go with that.’
‘Hey, Woodstock.’ Phil came up from behind me. ‘How is time travel?’
‘This is what I wear, Phil. In real life.’
‘Yes, well, Faker is hardly real life, is it?’ he whispered.
Strangely, it seemed people had forgiven and forgotten what happened last week. Last week I’d been a traitor, and today it was as though everything was back to normal. All it had taken was Hive being splashed on the front page of the news, and two days’ reprieve. It was entirely strange that, just three days ago, these people would have come at me with a blunt pencil to the jugular if they’d had the chance.
I purposely did not look out for Nick; he could be there, or not be there, it didn’t matter. I was not a well-behaved woman and, truthfully, I didn’t give an actual hoo-ha where that evil bird man was. It would be suitable should I never have to look at him, see him, talk to him again.
Glenn murmured on in a monotone voice about Maker’s overall quarterly re
sults and profits and new projects and I zoned out, watching Sadie’s hair instead and noticing how crisp it was from all the hairspray. Surely, she’d combust if her blonde curls got anywhere near a match?
‘Folks. As you know this week is the Macabre event at The Westin, the team led by Nick Taylor and Emma Londstown. Wonderful reports all round that we have already managed to raise the IAH PR profile up fifty per cent, and the charity has already raised over one million dollars.’ The division erupted in applause. ‘Thanks, Emma and Nick.’ Absolutely zero mention of what had happened last week. Nothing about Hive or Lachlan Groves. Or how the entire event had almost been a bust. It was as if, if they didn’t talk about it, then maybe it never happened. I looked around to see if anyone else noticed how absurd this was, but everyone was just smiling and nodding and pretending to eat quiche. It was as if all was well in the PR world again.
At the end of the meeting I walked purposefully over to Glenn and said I needed to talk to him.
‘Now?’ He seemed in a rush, as always.
‘Yes, right now.’ I smiled with confidence.
In his office, he turned to me and said, ‘This isn’t about Macabre, is it? Another fuck-up?’
I shook my head.
‘So?’ Glenn raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘What are you doing in my office?’
‘Everything is on track,’ I assured him. ‘We’ve got—’
‘I wanted to fire you, you know,’ Glenn interrupted, pausing for effect. ‘In fact, I was going to.’
He sat at his desk. ‘What you did, Emma, could have ended so many of our partnerships. Could have almost ended our company. Do you realise that?’
I nodded and kept silent.
‘I was this close, this close …’ he held up his pointer finger and thumb, showing less than an inch gap ‘… to letting you go. But then Nick called a meeting, with the senior executives and the board, and told us you’d done some good work.’ He paused. ‘Some really good work.’
I lifted up my head, shocked. ‘He did?’
‘He did.’ Glenn leaned back in his chair. ‘He said you’d single-handedly delivered us a wonderful event, and that you’d done it all without any experience. Which shocked me, Emma. It really did. You lied on your CV. But Nick had a point – with no experience you did a wonderful job. Magnificent, really.’
‘I did?’
‘You did. Plus, you’d talked to a new catering company who are launching a new business arm, using them for Macabre and the Foragers account, and they needed PR representation. A deal which Sadie closed yesterday.’
‘Oh, wow, that’s amaz—’
He interrupted me again. ‘So thankfully for you – you’re staying. But pull another stunt like that and you’re out.’
‘Well, firstly I want to reassure you everything really is on track for this week. Honey’s speech is ready to go. The press releases are out. The photographers lined up. Media coverage is massive off the back of the Hive, uh, situation. Catering, decorations, guests – all confirmed.’
‘So, Emma, if everything is fine, why the hell are you in my office?’ He leaned back in his large black chair, staring at me intently.
‘Macabre is all ready to go, Glenn.’ Then I took a deep breath and said, ‘But I won’t be there.’
Chapter 27
I called my mum and dad and shakily said, ‘I’m going to Alaska!’
‘On a holiday?’ Mum asked.
‘No, Mum, I’m going to live there.’
She paused and I could hear her breathing down the phone. ‘I … I …’
‘Mum, are you OK?’
‘Oh Emma. Just imagine how lonely you’ll be. Stuck in the middle of nowhere.’
Before I would have agreed with her, or argued with her because deep down I wanted to please her. I wanted her to be proud of me. But now, I knew more than anything, I needed to please myself. ‘No Mum, I think you’re imagining how lonely you would be.’
‘Oh … am I?’ She paused and seemed to be thinking about that.
‘Mum, I love the mountains, I’ve always dreamed of living in the middle of woods, with chickens, a cottage. The snow. Painting. This couldn’t be more perfect for me. In fact, it feels like I place I could stay for a while.’
‘Does it?’ She sounded unsure.
‘I think this is my version of settling down Mum. I know it’s not what you imagined, it’s not a city, a stable job, a three-bedroom house. But this is what it looks like for me.’
‘But Emma, if it’s in the middle of nowhere … how will you meet someone?’
‘Maybe that’s just not in my future.’ I shrugged. ‘And that’s OK, as long as I’m happy, I think that’s OK.’
I could tell she didn’t know how to answer that, because the next thing she said was, ‘OK well good. Did you hear your cousin is going to compete in a triathlon? He’s starting training for it next week. Isn’t that exciting?’
After I finished talking to Mum, I texted all the girls saying, I’m moving to Alaska!
Calls flooded in. Tansy. Bec. Maggie. All screaming, ‘WHAT?’
I said the same thing over and over, Yes, I’m moving to Alaska. To paint. And live in a country cottage. And even then, it hadn’t really sunk in. And still didn’t feel real. I’d been even more surprised when Ruth had emailed me (and even offered to call me on Skype!) with the details of the arrangement, including the pay. She must have been pretty wealthy, because my new salary was slightly more than Maker had paid, and far fewer hours. Plus, I’d never have to wear high heels again, thank the Lord. But the best thing was – all the things I was about to do, excited me, deeply excited me. I wasn’t doing this for anyone, but me.
‘What about him?’ Tansy asked on the phone, after I finally told the girls everything that had happened with Nick. I expected them to be absolutely livid – as I’d been – but instead they seemed almost sad. ‘Maybe you should answer his texts? Or at least read them?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ I declined. ‘I don’t want to think about him ever again.’
‘But maybe he got worried because he liked you and—’
‘I’m just going to stop you there,’ I interrupted her. ‘He called me out for being a liar, and yet he was lying the entire time.’
‘Well, um,’ she said tentatively, ‘technically, he didn’t lie. You weren’t exclusively dating. He didn’t actually say he wasn’t seeing other people, he just omitted it. A little.’
‘Tansy! I can’t believe you said that. He slept with me and then left me at his house and thought that was OK! Maybe that’s how he thinks he can treat people,’ I mused aloud. ‘Besides, whose side are you on? You sound very much like Switzerland, and I don’t want that, you need to pick a side. How about you pick America? Yes, be America since that’s where I’ll be.’
***
That afternoon, Phil demanded I go for a celebratory drink. And as he asked me I could see Nick hovering in his doorway. We hadn’t exchanged more than an obligatory hello that morning in the corridor, and I’d only done that since Glenn had been standing next to him.
Nick had tried texting, and leaving voicemails, and when that hadn’t worked he’d tried emailing my work email, asking if we could talk, but I’d deleted them all. Which I felt very proud about.
Besides, what could he say that would change anything? He was staying in Sydney, and I was going to Alaska, and we’d be on separate continents, with thankfully one of the coldest seas dividing us – just in case he thought about skinny dipping. Plus, I was sure Chloe or Honey could keep him warm at night. Ugh.
‘No drinks, I have to get rid of all the heels and silk shirts I bought. And find all my old travel clothes!’ I laughed. ‘And I need to pack!’
***
At home, I collected bags of my clothes and gave some to Tansy and Maggie for kids’ dress-ups, some to charity and some to Mum to keep, because she made me promise not to throw everything out.
‘Just in case,’ Mum said, ‘you come home, and
get your job back, at Maker. That was a very good job, Emma.’
She picked up a soft peach shirt. ‘I’m sad about these lovely clothes being given away. Do you think you should keep them, just in case?’
I laughed. ‘In case I decide to settle down, get a city office job and a large mortgage and pop out a few kids?’
She nodded sadly.
‘Mum, I’m not coming back. At least, not to that job.’
She looked a bit crestfallen.
I smiled at her. ‘You can come and visit me and see the Northern Lights! Besides, I don’t need them any more. I need thermals and snow boots.’ I’d picked up a pair of amazing snow boots that looked like yetis’ feet. The best thing was I wouldn’t need to keep them pristine and clean – they’d be full of dirt soon, as I trekked through mountains, snow and ice. I’d be out in the wind and the water and surrounded by nature. Best of all, I would finally get my country cottage.
I held up a windproof jacket. ‘I need this kind of stuff for my wild wandering and travel. This kind of stuff makes me happy.’
***
Over the next few days, I was barely in the office except for a few hours, attending meetings to wrap everything up and hand it over to Phil.
I noticed Nick’s office door was closed, and the lights were off. Someone said it was because he was planning for Macabre. But I didn’t care. I was too busy planning for my Non Well-Behaved Woman Life, and I felt relieved that we wouldn’t have to keep avoiding each other.
I didn’t hang around at work that much, off at five on the dot every day. I was busy cleaning out my unit, and packing my life up, and trying to fit everything into boxes, as well as filling in forms for permanent visas and temporary visitor visas and going off to the American consulate for an interview to see if I could get into their country. Thankfully, I passed.
On Wednesday, my third last day at Maker, Glenn’s EA Kerry brought me down some flowers and a generous gift card to say thank you and goodbye. It was almost as much as my weekly salary.
At the shops, I bought a new long coat that was thick and wool and would be perfect on a chilly autumn day. I used the rest of the gift card to buy sensible waterproof shoes and pants, a new fry pan for Mum – the one she’d been banging on about – some boardshorts for Dad (no budgie smugglers, please), and finally, I bought an expensive bottle of Champagne and a card with a naked cartoon woman. Inside I wrote, Dear Betty, I’m leaving to do what we wild women do best – explore and adventure. Here’s to being us. So much love, Emma.
Just As You Are Page 24