Call Waiting

by Dianne Blacklock

  “It is, but it’s just tainted for me. I wasn’t happy there, and I can’t change that.”

  “You should try to keep an open mind, Ally.”

  “I’m looking forward to the break. But I’ll be back for the start of the school term.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Boxing Day

  Ally didn’t expect the amount of traffic she hit heading out of the city. She should have realized that half the population of Sydney would start their holidays the day after Christmas. Anyway, it was no matter. She was not in any hurry. There was a certain luxury in only having to worry about herself. Just as well she could see something positive, she was going to have to get used to it.

  Staying at Meg’s over Christmas had stirred up all the emotions Ally had been trying to suppress. The scene as Harrison opened his presents surrounded by his loving family, belonged on a greeting card. Some people really did have that kind of a life. And she’d just wasted another five years of hers, moving farther and farther away from any chance of it for herself.

  Meg had reminded Ally she would turn the dreaded thirty-five next year, surely the most desolate of all ages. She would suddenly be catapulted into the “over 35’s” category on just about every form she had to fill in. And everybody—individuals and corporations—expected her to be married with at least one child. That was the demographic. And Ally didn’t fit it. She felt like she was some strange unwelcome visitor on a planet that had never encountered her species.

  She’d just pulled up at traffic lights when her mobile phone started ringing. She rummaged around in her bag to find it, as usual, too late.

  Ally looked at the tiny screen. Bryce had left another text message.

  Now that xmas is over, time to restart negotiations. What’s your bottom line? Call me. B.

  “No!” she said to the phone. “Leave me alone!”

  She remembered what she had said to Meg, about tossing it out the window. But that was a waste. No, she would just switch it off, and put it away.

  Once Ally joined the M5, the traffic moved more smoothly, and the rest of the drive took less than an hour and a half. This time when Ally pulled up at the gates of Birchgrove, they were closed. As soon as she had called to ask about staying, Lillian had forwarded Ally the keys by express mail. She’d asked Ally to phone her when she arrived, so that she would know she was safely inside and could give her any instructions.

  “Merry Christmas, Lillian,” Ally greeted her, after her grandson had called her to the phone.

  “Thank you, Ally. Did you have a nice Christmas?”

  “Lovely, thanks. How is the family?”

  “Everyone is fine here. Stuffed to the eyeballs with food, naturally, but that’s to be expected!” she added. “Did you have a good trip?”

  “I hit a little traffic at first, but then once I was on the freeway I had a good run.”

  “Now, there is plenty of food in the fridge, Ally, and I don’t want you to be shy, I left it for you. There’s bread in the freezer. And there’s wine, beer, whatever you fancy. You know where the cellar is.”

  “Thanks, Lillian.”

  “And you’ll take a staff room upstairs. Nicola has the farthest room along the corridor, you take the first one. Will that be alright?”

  “Of course, Lillian. Thanks for all this.”

  “Nonsense, Ally. I’m glad I’ll be seeing you again so soon. And besides, you’ll be there for Matthew.”

  “Of course. He starts tomorrow?”

  “That’s right,” she confirmed. “I’ll look forward to catching up when I get back.”

  “You’ll call me, about the train you’ll be on?”

  “Yes, dear. I’ll talk to you later in the week.”

  Ally carried her suitcase upstairs. She hadn’t thought she’d be back here so soon after the last time. And homeless. It hadn’t really hit her yet that she was “of no fixed address.” Perhaps that’s how she had felt with Bryce for all those years anyway.

  She changed into something cooler and went back downstairs to make herself something to eat. She carried a tray out to the verandah and settled herself on a wicker chair looking out onto the garden. It would still be light for another hour or so, and the air was warm, though not as humid as in Sydney.

  Ally sat sipping her wine, absorbing the peace, the extraordinary stillness. She felt an overwhelming sense of release. It was like she had woken up from a coma after living with Bryce for five years. That was the only way she could describe it now. Meg had said that her self-esteem was shot, but Ally had to wonder if she had any in the first place, to entirely subjugate her own dreams for so long.

  But she was finally free. Though free to do what exactly, she wasn’t sure. She was beginning to realize how much she needed this break. A chance to unwind, but also to step away, have some distance. She certainly wasn’t going to stay here, but perhaps it was a good place to gain some perspective.

  Ally didn’t know how long she’d sat there on the verandah, but dusk had fallen, and she was suddenly feeling very tired. Upstairs, her suitcase still lay on the floor untouched. She was in no hurry to unpack, and it was almost indulgent to leave things lying around; she could never do that when she was with Bryce.

  She slipped off her dress and threw it across a chair, climbing into bed in her underwear. The sheets were smooth and cool, and the bed felt huge. Ally stretched out, relishing the quiet. No traffic noise, no doors banging in adjacent flats. She fell asleep easily, with only the distant sound of an owl hooting.

  The next morning

  There it was again. A high-pitched grinding noise screaming through the window. She pulled the pillow tighter around her head. It seemed to have stopped. Ally lifted her head. She looked around the room, momentarily disorientated.

  Suddenly a loud bang from the side of the house made Ally almost jump off the bed. She went to the window and stuck her head out. Down below she could see someone, with what appeared to be a window frame straddled across his back.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” she called.

  The man settled the frame down on the ground and looked up. He was wearing a cap, she couldn’t really see his face. Ally remembered she was in her underwear and pulled the curtain around herself.

  “Hi there! I’m the carpenter. Lillian said she mentioned I was coming?”

  Ally frowned, holding her hand to her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes. “Mm, not quite so early though.”

  “Well, it is nine o’clock…”

  “Oh God, it’s not, is it? Why didn’t you knock?”

  “I did…” He seemed to hesitate. “Listen, do you mind continuing the conversation down here? I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

  “Oh sure, sorry. Just give me a minute.”

  Ally threw on the shift she’d discarded last night and splashed some water on her face in the bathroom. She checked herself in the mirror. Her crinkly hair never behaved itself in the mornings, so dragging a brush through it now was having little effect. She gave up and hurried down the stairs barefoot, and out the back door to where the builder was working.

  “Sorry about that,” she greeted him.

  He was leaning over the window frame, which he’d since hoisted onto two workhorses. He turned around to face her and pulled off his cap, smoothing back his hair. It was the first time Ally had seen his face clearly. It was a good-looking face.

  “Hi,” he smiled. “No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry the noise woke you. Like I said, I tried knocking. When there was no answer, I waited around for a while, but eventually I really had to get started.”

  Ally felt herself redden. “I’m so sorry. Lillian was counting on me being here, you know, to let you in, whatever.”

  He grinned at her. He had these deep creases down his cheeks that formed furrows when he smiled. And really blue eyes.

  “Is that what she told you?” he asked. “Well don’t worry, I’ve got a key. I let myself in and out all the time.”

  Now
Ally felt even more embarrassed. “So Lillian was obviously just being nice, about needing me to stay and everything.”

  “Of course she was being nice, you know Lillian! But I’m sure she wanted you to stay.”

  Ally smiled weakly at him. “Well, let me make you a cup of tea at least.”

  “It’s okay, I brought a thermos.”

  “Don’t be silly, let me make you a proper cup, from a pot. It’s the least I can do.”

  Ally rushed back into the kitchen, filled the kettle and plugged it in. She searched through the cupboards until she found some generous, plain white mugs. She was sure—whatever his name was would drink from a mug. And he might be hungry, he’d already been here for a while. So she took out Lillian’s Christmas cake and cut a couple of decent slabs.

  She carried a tray out onto the back verandah and set it down on a wicker table. The sun was starting to feel quite hot, so she pulled the chairs into the shade. She walked back around to the side of the house to find him.

  He was hunched over the window frame again, working with a chisel.

  “Your tea’s ready, it’s up on the verandah.”

  He stood up, straightening his back and wiping the sweat off his brow with his forearm.

  “It’s going to be a hot one today,” he remarked.

  He followed her around to the verandah and sat down on one of the chairs. Ally poured the tea.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know whether you had milk or sugar.”

  He shook his head, “Just black thanks.”

  She handed him the mug. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Ally, Ally Tasker.”

  He nodded. “You’re Jim Tasker’s granddaughter.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I saw you at the funeral.”

  “You were at the funeral?”

  “Sure, I couldn’t come back to the wake, I was flat out finishing a couple of jobs before Christmas. But I was at the cemetery, to pay my respects. Jim was a terrific bloke. It must have been a great loss for you.”

  Ally nodded vaguely. Curiouser and curiouser. “Sorry, I think Lillian mentioned your name, but I’ve forgotten.”

  “Matt Serrano.”

  “Serrano? That’s Italian?”

  He nodded. “My grandparents were from Italy. My Dad was born here, and Mum’s Australian. But I like to think I’m still part Italian.”

  That accounted for the dark hair and the olive skin. The blue eyes must have been from his mother.

  “Is this Lillian’s Christmas cake?” he was asking.

  “Sorry, yes of course, please have some.”

  He reached for a piece. “You say ‘sorry’ a lot, you know. You don’t have to keep apologizing for everything.”

  Ally reddened again, relieved he wasn’t looking at her.

  “Did you grow up here?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Where?” he frowned. “Here, in the Southern Highlands?” He shook his head. “My dad grew up in Griffith, that’s where he met Mum. We lived around the Riverina District while I was growing up.”

  “So what brought you here?”

  “I lived in Sydney for about ten years, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted to get back to the country, but it’s hard to make a living. This was a good compromise. Plenty of the kind of work I do, none of the traffic and stress.”

  Ally shuddered. Shades of her grandfather.

  “What kind of work, carpentry?”

  He nodded. “Restoration work mostly. You ask a lot of questions, Ally Tasker.”

  Ally knew she was blushing furiously this time. “Sorry…”

  “You’re apologizing again.”

  “Sorry, oh!” She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Okay, no more questions.”

  “I’ll ask one instead,” he said. “What’s Ally short for?”

  “Who says it’s short for anything?”

  “It’s not?” he frowned. “So it’s just like that skinny American girl on the telly?”

  “Did you have to bring her up?”

  “Well is it?”

  She shrugged. “Let’s just say that it’s the name on my driver’s license.”

  “But not on your birth certificate?”

  Ally glanced sideways at him and took a sip from her tea.

  “For someone who asks a lot of questions, you’re not very good at answering them,” he said. “Why so secretive?”

  “If you heard it, you’d understand.”

  He paused, considering her. “If I guess, will you tell me?”

  She grinned. “You never will.”

  “Well it can’t be something normal like Alison or Alexandra. It has to be embarrassing.” He thought for a moment. “What about Alberta? Alfreda?”

  She shook her head.

  “I know! You were named after one of the Abba girls—what was she called—Agnetha or something?”

  “Then I’d be Aggie wouldn’t I?” Ally pointed out. “Besides, I was born well before Abba hit the charts, but thanks for thinking that was a possibility.”

  He narrowed his eyes, concentrating. “Alfonsia?… Al-ger-non-ia?” he said slowly.

  “You’re making them up.”

  “But I can’t think of anything else.”

  “Told you so, game over.”

  “Oh, come on, you have to give me credit for trying.”

  Ally looked at his plaintive expression and felt herself softening. But she never told anyone her real name.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he persisted, flashing her a rather disarming smile.

  She sighed. If she didn’t tell him, it would just become a greater challenge. “It’s Alaska.”

  He paused, thinking about it. “Alaska Tasker. It rhymes!”

  “Thanks for pointing that out,” Ally said dryly.

  “Is that why you don’t like it?”

  “That’s the least of it. It’s just embarrassing.”

  “Why, I think it’s kind of exotic.”

  “Mm,” she looked doubtful. “Alaska is cold and harsh and remote—Tahiti is exotic.”

  “What? You’d rather be called Tahiti?”

  “No! I’d rather be called something normal, like … Elizabeth!”

  “The suburb in Adelaide?”

  Ally laughed. “No, I’d just like a normal name. Like yours. Matthew, that’s a lovely name.”

  “But I don’t think it would suit you.”

  She smiled. “You’re determined to make a joke out of this, aren’t you?”

  “Well, I just don’t think it’s such a bad name. Do you know why your parents called you Alaska? They must have had a reason.”

  Ally sighed. “That’s the worst part. My mother named me after where I was conceived.”

  “You were born in Alaska?”

  “No, I said where I was conceived. She made that very clear. When I was a little too young to want to know.”

  “How old were you?”

  Ally looked out into the distance. “Twelve. I hadn’t seen her since she left me with my grandparents when I was three. I didn’t even remember her. The only name I’d ever known for myself was Ally. Then, when Nan died, she showed up out of the blue and dumped it all on me. Then she left again.”

  Ally didn’t know why she was telling him any of this. It wasn’t as if she was in the habit of revealing much about her personal life to anyone, let alone a stranger.

  “What about your father?”

  Ally shrugged. “All I know is that he was someone living in Alaska at the time, my mother wasn’t even sure of his name.”

  The cicadas had started to chirp on the lawn outside. The noise would crescendo by late afternoon in this heat.

  “Well it could be worse, you know,” Matt said eventually.

  “Oh really?”

  He nodded. “If my parents had called me after where I was conceived, you’d be talking to Wagga Wagga Serrano.”

  Ally burst into laughter.

  “In fact, if my suspicions
are true, maybe even Back Seat of a Holden Serrano!”

  “Stop,” said Ally holding up her hand, still laughing. “I take your point.”

  “Well, thanks for the cuppa,” he said, standing up. “But I better get back to work. Do you want a hand with these?” He indicated the tray and cups.

  “No, thanks. I’ll take care of that. Now, does Lillian normally give you lunch?”

  “I’ve got some with me.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” she persisted. “Does Lillian normally give you lunch?”

  “When the kitchen’s open and Rob is here, then yes, I normally get lunch. But as that isn’t the case, I brought my own.”

  “So, tomorrow, I’ll make you lunch—I have to earn my keep.”

  He turned and started down the verandah steps. “Okay, Alaska, if you insist.”

  “You promised not to tell anyone!”

  “There’s no one here,” he protested. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  The next day

  Ally heard Matt’s truck pulling up in the driveway out front. This time she was up and dressed and had the kettle boiling. She had found an alarm clock and set it for seven, hoping that would give her at least half an hour before he arrived.

  She opened the front door as Matt was unloading gear off the back of the truck.

  “Morning!”

  “Hi there. I didn’t wake you?” he grinned.

  “No, I was ready for you this time,” she replied. “I was just making a pot of tea, would you like a cup?”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll bring it out.”

  Ally went back in through to the kitchen. She poured them both a mug, adding milk to hers. Yesterday, she had pottered around, unpacking and generally settling herself in. Around lunchtime, she had called to Matt to come inside out of the heat while he ate. And she made him a cup of coffee later in the afternoon, before he left.

  But last night, she’d started to feel bored and restless. And rattling around alone in a huge empty house only exacerbated the feeling. It was a relief to have a bit of company.

  She took his tea out to him.

  “Thanks,” he smiled, taking the mug from her.

  “So what are you up to today?” she asked.

  “Well, I still have another section of dry rot to cut out of the second window, and then I have to replace the piece, before assembling the window again,” he explained. “Then I’ve got the third window to fix.” He indicated the next one along the southern wall. “I wanted to have them all painted for Lillian, but if the heat keeps up, a storm will blow up tonight or tomorrow, and I bet it’ll rain for a day at least, maybe two.”