The Quarantine Station

by Michelle Montebello

  She hadn’t realised just how much she’d wanted him to do that until it was happening. And it was delicious. All her senses were trained on his lips and on his hands as they moved from her face, down her arms, finding their way beneath her jumper to rest on her bare skin.

  When he pulled away, she was breathless. ‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’

  He laughed, that wonderfully deep laugh that made her stomach somersault. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’

  He leant in and kissed her again and this time, Emma’s whole body fired to life, like a distant but familiar friend she’d thought gone.

  Coffee and exhaustion forgotten, she grabbed his hand and led him boldly to her bedroom. With hands and lips on each other, they scrambled out of their clothes and fell onto her bed. Any modesty she might have felt at being out of practice had been left behind in the kitchen. She wanted him as keenly as he seemed to want her.

  It was thirty minutes later when they finally separated, sweat cooling on their skin. As their breathing slowed, Matt’s fingertips moved down her back, across her hips, along her thighs and back up around the curve of her waist.

  It was refreshing to know a lover who took the time to appreciate her body, to want to drink it in with his eyes and hands, unlike Drew who had always been so self-absorbed in the bedroom. Despite the sleep deprivation, Matt had tasted, kissed and explored her, and it had driven her to act full of hunger and without inhibition.

  The traffic pulsed to some unknown hour outside and the walls grew dim in her bedroom. Wrapped tightly in Matt’s arms, exhaustion came quickly and they slept like the dead.

  When Emma woke, it was dark outside and the street lamps were on, lighting up the edges around her window shades.

  Matt stirred next to her, hair ruffled from sleep. He opened one eye, then the other and smiled. ‘Hello there.’

  ‘Hello,’ she said, tugging the covers up around herself, suddenly self-conscious.

  But he flung an arm around her and pulled her in close and the awkwardness vanished.

  ‘I wonder what time it is.’

  ‘Time for food. I’m starving,’ he said into her hair.

  ‘This is probably a good time to tell you that I live on café leftovers. I don’t use my oven.’

  He laughed. ‘I could duck out and get us some food.’

  ‘I would love that.’

  He rolled out of bed and found his jeans on the floor. He pulled them on and slid his jumper over his head, leaning back across the bed to kiss her. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

  She heard him pull the front door shut and listened to his car as it grumbled to life on the street. When she rolled over to check the time on the clock next to her bed, she was stunned to see it was ten pm. They had slept the day away.

  Emma yawned and stretched. She felt pleasurably whole and satisfied, like something long dead had returned to life. Then, realising that a man was probably going to stay the night, she climbed out of bed, dressed and rushed around the apartment tidying up, emptying the fridge of old leftovers and taking the garbage down to the bins outside. When she was done, she ran a shower, washed her hair and dressed in clean clothes.

  It wasn’t until after midnight, well past the time when Emma feared Matt might not return, that she heard his car outside and a few minutes later, a knock at the door. She opened it for him and he grinned at her, holding up a plastic bag and a small bundle wrapped in a grey blanket.

  ‘I got us Chinese food from the Cross. It was the only place still open.’

  Emma couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she took the bag from him. ‘I wasn’t sure you were coming back.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, walking in. ‘I made a detour and didn’t want to call or text in case you’d gone back to sleep.’

  ‘We slept all afternoon. I doubt I’ll be sleeping for a while.’ She eyed the bundle wrapped in the blanket. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This is what I detoured for.’ He set the bundle down on the coffee table and peeled back the blanket, revealing four tan hardcover books inside. Rose’s diaries!

  Emma squealed. ‘You brought Rose’s diaries here?’

  ‘I did. I drove to the Q Station to get them. I thought we could do some reading tonight, since we’re both wide awake.’

  ‘Is the Q Station open at this time of night?’

  ‘Twenty-four hours a day.’

  ‘But are you allowed to just take these?’

  He looked sheepish. ‘Not really. I could lose my job if anyone knew. So we have to be careful with them and I’ll have to put them back as soon as we’re finished.’

  ‘We’ll be super careful.’ She held up the bag. ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Starving.’

  She took the food into the kitchen and heaped rice, dumplings and beef into bowls. When she carried them into the living room, Matt was holding one of the diaries up.

  ‘This is the second diary we were reading a few weeks ago.’

  Emma sat next to him and handed him a bowl.

  He took a few bites of a dumpling, then put it to one side, opening the cover. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready.’

  And with bowls of greasy Chinese food, they went back to 1918.

  15th September, 1918

  Forgive me, dearest diary,

  I have not written to you in weeks. It was not my intention to neglect you. On the contrary, I’ve missed our time together. Although I have been preoccupied, the real reason I couldn’t write is that I ran out of diary pages. My love, my wonderfully kind and generous love, the one of whom you know I speak of, has bought me four new diaries! They arrived today. The postmaster’s assistant brought them to me.

  Of course, I had to hide them from dear Bessie. I don’t believe she is a keen reader, but I have to be careful all the same. Zealous eyes can lead to secrets exposed and I must protect the one thing I hold dear in this place; the one person that tethers me to the ground and catapults me to the sky all at the same time.

  So much has happened since we last spoke. I’ve been working at the hospital for the past two weeks, assisting with housekeeping duties and it has been extremely rewarding. Matron Cromwell sees potential in me and has asked me to stay! I seem to have found a place where I truly belong.

  The hospital has become, ironically, a tonic for my soul. Bessie thinks the work is ghastly and she is right. At times, it can be. It’s not for the faint-hearted and it chips at my soul when we lose the children, though I don’t think Bessie intends to talk me out of it. She’s enjoying her service to the duke, even if the enjoyment is not always reciprocated.

  The weather is warming, dear diary, as we stride into spring. They say the warmth brings relief to the ill. For their sake, I hope so, as more boats arrive, delivering passengers down with this wretched influenza, and sometimes I think our station will truly burst at the seams.

  Until next time,

  Rose

  They read page after page of Rose’s diaries, spread out across the coffee table, the words whispering tales from a century before.

  ‘I’m intrigued about who this man was.’ Emma settled back into the lounge, massaging her neck. ‘He bought her all these diaries. Do you think he and the duke are the same person?’

  ‘I doubt it. I get the impression she liked being away from the duke when she was at the hospital.’

  ‘Or was she just being clever in writing it that way so no one would suspect a thing?’

  ‘I think you’re reading too much into it.’

  ‘I probably am.’ Emma sighed. ‘I guess at this point I just hoped I’d have more to go on. We’re still no closer to knowing why my grandmother wanders at night. I fear we may never know.’

  ‘What does she say about the duke? Surely she would have mentioned if he was her father.’

  ‘The only time she ever mentioned him was last week when I visited her. Her exact words were “it was all to do with the duke”.’

  ‘What was to do with the duke?’

 
; ‘I have no idea. After that, I couldn’t get a straight answer from her.’

  ‘And so it goes, round and round in circles.’ Matt sank back into the lounge next to her. He rested his hand on her thigh and she liked the way it felt there; an almost comfortable possessiveness that stirred something inside.

  ‘I like hanging out with you,’ he said with a slow smile.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s comfortable and uncomplicated.’

  ‘It’s just me.’

  ‘I like just you,’ he said.

  She leant across the lounge, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. He responded, his hand travelling from her thigh up to her waist, moving beneath her top to settle on her bare back.

  She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her and he gave a small groan. The late hour and Rose’s diaries were quickly forgotten. She gulped him in like oxygen, every inch of him as clothes were quickly flung to the floor.

  When they made love, Emma knew exactly how Rose must have felt. How the kind and gentle man in her life had tethered her to the ground and sent her catapulting all at the same time. A hundred years later, Emma felt it too, with a man she had accidentally stumbled across on a station that was tied to the core of her being.

  Was it a coincidence or was it fate? Was it Rose reaching out across the threads of time to guide Emma and bestow a little wisdom?

  Afterwards, they climbed into bed and Matt held Emma close, planting soft kisses along her neck. The clock on her bedside table blinked three-thirty am.

  ‘Are you tired?’ Matt asked softly.

  She burrowed deeper against him. ‘I’m not sure. I feel almost jetlagged.’

  ‘Same. My body doesn’t know what it wants to do.’

  ‘Your body knew a few minutes ago,’ she said cheekily.

  He laughed out loud. ‘That’s the effect you have on me.’

  She pulled his arms tighter around her.

  ‘Why didn’t it work?’ he said into her neck.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your marriage to Drew.’

  Emma turned to face him. She traced a fingertip down his arm, tanned from the sun. ‘For lots of reasons, but the final straw was the affair. He cheated on me with my best friend.’

  Matt’s eyebrows went up. ‘Wow.’

  Her fingers met his and their hands locked. She could feel the rough callouses on his skin―carpenter’s hands. Strong, rugged. She liked it. ‘Drew and I weren’t a good match from the start. Our relationship was fraught with problems.

  ‘I’d met him a few years after my parents died. I was in the worst possible headspace, living with Gran, still grieving, hating the world. He lifted me so high on a pedestal I lost sight of the ground. That’s what Drew does, you see, he conquers people. I was a challenge, a thing to be rescued.’

  ‘Sounds like a nice guy.’

  ‘That’s the problem. I thought he was. He was like my saviour. He made me see the world again, gave me something to live for.

  ‘We dated for several years and then he asked me to marry him. I said yes, even when deep down I knew we weren’t a good fit. I was never myself around him, always trying too hard. But I gave it a go because apart from my grandmother, Drew was the only other thing I loved and I couldn’t have survived another loss. So I clung. I clung to him so damn hard I suffocated him.

  ‘The first cracks started to appear a year after we married. We were living together in Rose Bay and Gran was diagnosed with stage three dementia; a mild cognitive decline. She had difficulty concentrating and she’d gotten lost a few times on the way to the shops.

  ‘The doctors said she wasn’t able to live on her own anymore because her condition would deteriorate. Drew wanted her admitted to an aged care facility but I wanted her to stay with us. The other option was to pay for a full-time caregiver to live with her, but that was expensive and Drew didn’t like the idea of our money being used for that. Eventually, he relented and Gran moved in with us.

  ‘He struggled having her in the house. He felt that his space had been invaded. I guess it was a lot to ask of him when we had only just gotten married, but I reasoned that if it were his parents or grandparents, I would have happily welcomed them into our lives.’

  ‘I think most people would have.’

  ‘Not Drew. He resented the intrusion. He spent less time at home, went out more. I hardly saw him and that made me more fearful, not only because I knew he was pulling away from me, but because I was worried something terrible would happen to him. That he’d get hit by a car or stabbed by a drunk. I was so terrified of him dying that I clung to him more. And that pushed him further away.

  ‘Then one afternoon I came home from a doctor’s appointment with Gran to find him in our bed with my best friend, Tabitha.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I can’t even remember those initial few seconds. I think I retched on the carpet then I left. I took Gran and we went to sit in the park for a few hours. She was so upset for me. She felt responsible, but it wasn’t her fault.

  ‘I’ve known Tabitha my whole life. She was my best friend. She was there the night I was told my family were killed, was the first one to hold me, to understand my shock, to expect nothing from me because she was just a kid herself. And after all that, she slept with my husband in my bed.’ Emma shook her head. Just when she thought she didn’t care anymore, she realised that no amount of time or healing would ever make her forget the humiliation and betrayal.

  Matt squeezed her hand a little tighter. ‘I’m sorry, Em.’

  ‘Don’t be. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. After we left the park, I took Gran home and decided I would talk to Drew and maybe we could still salvage our relationship. I was prepared to forgive him. But when we got home, Drew had changed the locks and mine and Gran’s suitcases were on the front step.

  ‘I tried calling him, tried calling Tabitha. Neither of them would answer. With my marriage obviously over, I took Gran to a hotel and a few weeks later, we found this rental here in Kensington. We relocated her furniture from storage and I’ve been here ever since.’

  ‘Drew’s a jerk.’

  ‘So you can see why I didn’t want to tell you about him. There’s nothing there anymore. We should have gotten divorced years ago but we haven’t been in contact and it was just forgotten about. I’ve considered myself single for a long time and he’s moved on too. Tabitha and Drew have a baby now and they’re getting engaged.’

  ‘I get it, Em. I do. And I shouldn’t have acted the way I did down by the post office. It just reminded me of Natalie and… well, I don’t always think straight when it comes to what she did.’

  ‘I’m sorry she hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.’

  ‘She loved me in her own way I suppose, but what’s the point if you belong to someone else?’

  He held her tighter in his arms and she smiled at the feeling of security it gave her. They both had baggage, they’d both been hurt terribly, but in some weird and wonderful way, they’d found each other.

  Emma knew it was too early to know what this was, but in that moment, it felt good, and she knew that was all she could ask for.

  ‘What made you decide to place Gwendoline in the nursing home?’

  ‘I started working at The Coffee Bean to support us and that meant she was left home alone for hours at a time. She’d forget to turn the stove off or leave the bath running. She would wander from the apartment and I’d come home from work and wouldn’t be able to find her.

  ‘Anyone going through that mind-altering state would feel fearful and isolated. She was terrified, didn’t know what was happening to her. I learnt as much as I could, but I couldn’t be here twenty-four-seven to watch her and that was the difficult part.

  ‘I persisted as long as I could but, in the end, I had to make a decision. Placing her in permanent care was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and not a day goes by that I don’t feel guilty for it.’r />
  ‘You’re so hard on yourself all the time. You did the only thing you could do.’

  ‘When my family died, Gran took me in. She put up with all my teenage bullshit―she dealt with the tears, the tantrums, the drinking, the stealing. I put her through hell and she loved me unconditionally. I couldn’t do the same for her. I couldn’t cope with her ailing mind. I just put her in a home.’

  ‘You didn’t just put her in a home. The circumstances were completely different.’

  ‘I’m not so sure they were.’

  They fell silent as Matt nestled into her neck and she could feel his rough jaw against her skin. She admired his tolerance. She had bared the ugliest parts of her soul to him and he was still there, holding her, not running for the door.

  ‘Do you know what I wish for?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I wish for my mum back. Just to have one more day with her. I would ask her so many things. She would have known what to do about Drew and Tabitha and how to handle Gran’s illness. She was a practical lady, classy and smart as hell.’ Emma wiped a tear away that had leaked onto her cheek. ‘I miss her every day. I miss them all.’

  Matt didn’t say anything, but as she closed her eyes and sleep finally took hold, she felt his powerful arms around her and all the sadness, like a second layer of skin, melted away. It would come back, there was no doubt, but for the first time in a long time, Emma almost felt whole again.

  Not even the rising sun could stir them the next morning and they slept soundly until eleven.

  When they woke, they made love again, showered then devoured toast and instant coffee like they’d never eaten before. At midday, Anastasia Thornbury called to advise that Gwendoline would be transferred back to the aged care facility at three pm if they wanted to visit her.

  By some stroke of luck, Emma and Matt both had the day off and with a few hours to spare before Emma would leave for Eastgardens, they curled up beneath a blanket on the lounge to trawl through more of Rose’s diaries.

  Clouds had gathered outside, turning the blue sky leaden, and fat drops of rain began to spatter against the glass. Matt found the diary they’d last been reading from and turned to the next page.