by Lisa Ireland
That was something she couldn’t stand for. It was why she’d left Melbourne, forsaken her family all those years ago. She thought of her beautiful mother, made subservient by her reliance on her new husband. Her stepfather had wanted a certain type of wife. And a certain type of daughter for that matter. One that Kat could never be. She’d left home and spent the next sixteen years fending for herself. She wasn’t about to give up that freedom for anyone, not even Josh.
She allowed herself a few minutes to shed the hot tears of rage that welled in her eyes, but when Ami toddled back into the kitchen she quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand and forced a smile. ‘Let’s go for a walk, beba.’
Ami jigged up and down on the spot and Kat’s smile widened.
She opened the glass sliding door and stepped out on the back patio. ‘Come on. Mama will get the pram.’
‘Dada,’ Ami said.
‘Dad’s gone to work, bub. Come on, let’s go get an ice cream.’
The bribe of a sweet treat did the trick and Ami climbed into the stroller, her want for Dada apparently forgotten.
Kat walked faster than normal, beads of sweat forming on her forehead and trickling down between her shoulder blades. She climbed the hill and made her way to the gravel path that led to the beach. This walk never failed to lift her spirits. Today she noticed the wattles were starting to bloom, attracting the pretty little parrots she was so fond of. She pointed the birds out to Ami who clapped her hands in obvious delight, sending the parrots flying for the safety of the highest branches of the gums overhead. Usually she took her time along this stretch, allowing herself to admire the ever-changing flora and fauna. That was the excuse she gave Josh if he was with her, but really it was a good excuse to stop and catch her breath. Today she marched on at full pace, determined to make a workout of her walk. The track was flatter and more open as they approached the main beach, allowing glimpses out to sea. As she often did at this point, Ami began to get restless in the pusher. ‘Nearly there, beba.’
By the time they reached the beachfront Kat was panting with the exertion, but her head was clearer. When Josh came home she would lay everything on the table. How he’d made her feel and how that was not okay. She would make it clear that she was not his chattel.
★
It was almost midnight when she heard his car pull into the carport. She feigned sleep as he crept around banging into things as he tried to undress quietly in the dark. She felt the heat from his body as he slipped under the covers and rolled towards her.
‘Babe,’ he whispered. ‘Are you awake?’
She didn’t answer.
He placed his hand gently on her waist. ‘I’m sorry, babe. I don’t know what came over me.’
She could smell bourbon on his breath. Her body stiffened at his touch, but his hand stayed put.
‘Kat, please. You know I’m not one of those guys that think it’s okay to push women around. I just . . .’ he paused for a minute. His voice had begun to waver.
Kat let out a deep breath and allowed her body to relax.
‘Just the thought of you exposing yourself to danger, it frightened me. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you or Ami.’
‘I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.’
‘I know.’ His lips brushed against her neck. ‘But I like taking care of you.’ His hand moved up under her nightshirt to cup her breast.
Her nipple hardened under his touch. She really should push him away. There was more they needed to talk about. ‘Josh,’ she started, her voice ragged.
His thumb circled her nipple, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the pulsing between her legs. His hand moved lower, slipping beneath the elastic of her tatty undies and expertly parting her legs. ‘Let me take care of you,’ he whispered, and she gladly relented.
Chapter Four
W.O.N! (Weight Off Now!) Member Forum
30+ to Lose
Spring Round – Update Page
User: Princess Jewels / Location: Melbourne / Rank: Old Hand
Monday September 7 2015
Shelley, I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but sometimes your ‘advice’ is counter-productive. You don’t motivate people by making them feel like crap. Perhaps you should think before you type.
Jewels
User: Shrinking Shelley / Location: Sydney /Rank: Expert
Monday September 7 2015
Jewels, I am sorry you feel that way. I am only trying to help. I thought that’s what this forum was all about – those of us who have been successful advising people who are struggling. As you know I am a WON success story and am at goal, so I think I know a thing or two about the program.
To be honest I see a lot of whining and excuses in this group. Excuses don’t help you lose weight. I am not trying to be mean, but honest. If you can’t handle the truth I can’t see how you expect to be successful. Patting each other on the back and saying it’s okay to eat pizza or half a tray of biscuits isn’t helpful. That sort of behaviour makes people fat, not thin. Stop making excuses, follow the program and you’ll see results.
Shelley
User: Princess Jewels / Location: Melbourne / Rank: Old Hand
Monday September 7 2015
Shelley, if you got down off your high horse for just a minute, you’d realise you have no clue what you’re talking about. You’ve lost ten kilos IN TOTAL to be at goal. Most of us in this group need to lose three times that amount at least to be close to the top end of our recommended BMI. You have no idea what it’s like to be morbidly obese. It’s not as easy to stay motivated when a five kilo loss makes no difference to how you look or how you feel. It’s not easy to exercise when people look at you like you’re an alien if you dare to set foot inside a gym. It’s humiliating. But exercising outside is even worse, where you run the risk of random strangers hurling abuse at you as they whizz past in their cars so you have to turn your iPod up really loud to block out that ugliness. You don’t know what it’s like to weigh more than your husband or to be told your fatness is causing your infertility.
So excuse me, Shelley, for being a whinger. For not trying hard enough and for having the mistaken idea that this was a safe place to come for support.
I’ve put up with your superior attitude and snide remarks for over six months now without saying a word. But not anymore. You know what Shelley? You need to STFU.
Jewels
User: Shrinking Shelley / Location: Sydney / Rank: Expert
Monday September 7 2015
Jewels, I think you’re being extremely childish. I had to Google that acronym and frankly I’m disgusted. Don’t think for a minute that I won’t report your behaviour to the moderators. Just because you didn’t type out the words in full doesn’t mean you can get away with that type of abuse. You only have yourself to blame.
Shelley
Ellie put her rice paper roll back into its brown paper bag and sighed. It hadn’t taken long for this little support network to implode. And she’d had such high hopes that she’d make some real connections in this group.
Perhaps it was pathetic that she had to resort to the internet but after two years in Australia and not one friend to call her own she was prepared to try anything. It wasn’t as if she was completely unlikeable. She had loads of friends back home. Her friends in London were only an email or a phone call away. At least that was the theory. They’d all made promises to keep in touch, talked about Facebook, Skype and the phrase ‘global village’ had been touted freely. But they hadn’t counted on the reality of different time zones and lives no longer moving in the same direction.
Jenn’s friends were always insisting they were her friends, that she was ‘one of the crew’. But despite their assurances there was no one in that group she could call to come over for a wine or to see a movie, not unless Jenn was part of th
e deal. In any case, she had precious little in common with most of them. All they wanted to do was talk politics; boring nitty gritty departmental stuff. Half the time she had no idea what they were talking about.
Her friends back home would be shocked if they could see her now. On paper, and indeed on Facebook and Instagram, her life Down Under was all sunny days, delicious food and glittering parties. What wasn’t documented was her loneliness, her homesickness, and the very visible results of those emotions on her now obese body.
Ellie could still make her stomach flip by replaying the memory of meeting Jenn for the first time. How their eyes had held each other’s gaze just a fraction too long. How Jenn had reached out and touched her forearm as she recounted some funny story about life in the Antipodes.
They were at a party at the Natural History Museum. Ellie was working at the Tate Gallery at the time and had been invited by one of the organisers, who wanted ‘bright young things’ in attendance to impress the large Australian contingent. Ellie felt good about herself that night. She’d recently lost a substantial amount of weight thanks to a punishing twelve-week program her friend Emma had convinced her to join. She was wearing a brand new slinky black dress and heels to die for. Her hair was professionally styled and Emma had done her makeup for her. She looked pretty fit, even if she did say so herself.
The party had included the Australian Minister for Tourism and Jenn was one of his advisers. She was charismatic, magnetic even. Had all the major players eating out of her hand. It felt like Jenn could have had her pick of anyone in the room that night, male or female. But she chose Ellie to lavish her attention on. And Ellie couldn’t get enough of it.
Becoming Jenn’s girlfriend somehow made up for all the years before when she’d been ignored or worse. The relationship gave Ellie something she’d long denied she wanted, but in secret had lusted after since she was a misfit teenager. Jenn’s love made her popular by default. At last she was one of the cool kids.
After a year of conducting their relationship via phone, email and brief (albeit passionate) snatches of time spent in the same country, Ellie was thrilled when Jenn suggested she move out here so they could be together. She never once considered saying no.
The sight of her boss walking across the open plan office area towards her made Ellie snap back to the here and now. She quickly flicked to a more work appropriate browser tab. Looking at the WON forum at work was not a good idea. She’d have to try to restrain herself in future.
‘Ellie.’
‘Hi, Bridget.’
‘How’s the exhibition planning going? Have you heard back from Musée d’Orsay yet?’
Ellie shook her head. ‘I’ve got a video conference scheduled with them for tomorrow. Did you want to sit in?’
‘Send me a calendar invite and I’ll let you know. I can’t remember what I’ve got booked for tomorrow.’
‘Sure. Not a problem. Anything else I can do for you?’
Bridget parked her bum on the edge of Ellie’s desk. ‘Yes, actually. I need a huge favour if you can do it. I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow.’
‘I’ll help if I can. What is it?’
‘Well, I’m on my way out to lunch with the new minister and I was just wondering . . .’
Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. Was she finally going to be invited to something important? Was Bridget actually going to acknowledge her expertise? ‘Yes?’
‘. . . if you could take the school group I’ve got booked at two? I know I said I was going to do one a week, but I’m finding it hard to fit them in. Maybe I should cut back to one a month? Anyway we can talk about that at the staff meeting on Friday. As far as today goes, I’m not entirely sure I’ll make it back here in time. So if I’m not, would you do it?’
‘Sure. Have you got notes?’
Bridget’s brow creased momentarily. ‘Yes, um . . . I will have. I think. I’ll email them to you.’
So there were either no notes or scant ones. Great. Bridget was first rate at giving talks ‘off the cuff’ but Ellie preferred to be thoroughly prepared. Not much she could do about the situation, though. Bridget was her boss so she could hardly complain. ‘Not to worry. I can manage without them.’
‘You’re a doll, Ellie. I’ll make it up to you I promise.’ She slid off the desk. ‘Don’t forget to send me that calendar invite.’
Ellie did as she was instructed and then set about reprioritising the tasks she had planned for the rest of the day to accommodate the unplanned school group session. When she’d taken on this job almost two years ago, she hadn’t cared that it was a big step down from her previous role. Despite Jenn’s assurances that there was no need for her to work, Ellie didn’t want to be a bludger. Besides, after almost two months in Canberra playing tourist, she was beginning to feel a wee bit bored. She’d taken the role as assistant curator thinking it would only be temporary. As soon as another more appropriate job opened up, she’d apply and with her experience she’d be a shoo-in. But this was Canberra, not London, Paris or New York. Jobs in the industry were scarce and there were plenty of qualified bodies to fill them. The National Gallery was fabulous, and really the only place she was interested in working in Australia, but moving up the tree was proving more difficult than she first imagined.
One of her fellow assistants, Gemma, approached and settled herself in the spot Bridget had just vacated. ‘Hey, Ellie. How was your weekend?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Short and sharp answers were best where Gemma was concerned, otherwise the conversation might go all day.
‘What did you get up to?’
‘Not much. Had a bit of a quiet one actually.’ Like every weekend lately. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Jenn had spent a full weekend together. Right now she was in Indonesia with the Minister for Foreign Affairs, which left Ellie at home snuggled up on the couch with the cat. No Jenn meant no human contact.
‘Huh. Thought I might have seen you at Nicole O’s opening on Friday night. It was huge. Good media turnout too.’
‘Free bubbly will do that.’
Gemma grinned. ‘Yeah, I s’pose. Anyway it was a good night and we all kicked on afterwards at Transit. You really should have come.’
Ellie’s mouth tightened. ‘I had work to do. The Vuillard exhibition is only six months away and with Bridget caught up in all this fundraising and lobbying, most of the finer details have fallen to me to take care of.’
Gemma raised her eyebrows slightly, as if to say, ‘whatever’.
It wasn’t Gemma’s fault, but her presence often grated on Ellie. Almost ten years Ellie’s junior and doing the same job, Gemma was a constant reminder that her own life had effectively stalled. It didn’t help that as well as being excessively friendly, Gemma was actually very good at her job.
‘Anyway, El, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I remembered you saying to Bridget that your French contact seemed a bit prickly. I ran into Jacinta Tunstall at the opening, you know she works at the Portrait Gallery? Anyway, turns out she did an internship under your French fellow. They’re apparently good buddies. She said she’d mention your name next time they speak. Shame you weren’t there as she could have taken a selfie with you and sent it to him as an icebreaker.’
Ellie shook her head. ‘I don’t really think sending my French colleague a selfie is appropriate, Gemma. And we’re getting along just fine. We have a very appropriate, professional relationship, which is how it should be.’ Now she was living up to her reputation of being an uptight ‘Pom’. Gemma and the younger staff never said as much to her face but sometimes she caught them exchanging glances or even rolling their eyes slightly at her insistence on sticking to protocol.
Gemma shrugged and pushed herself off the desk. ‘Just trying to help,’ she said, as she walked away.
Ellie sighed. Jenn was right. She was totally rubbish in social situations. Gem
ma, for all her annoying ways, was the closest thing she had to a friend in this town. She was definitely her only real ally at the gallery and Ellie didn’t want to offend her.
‘Hey, Gem, wait a second.’
‘Yes?’
‘Love the shoes.’
A grin stretched across her colleague’s face as she swung around and headed back to Ellie’s workspace. ‘I know! They’re to die for, right? I bought them in Melbourne when I was there last week. Got them in this funky little arcade. And the best part is they were on sale. Fifty per cent off!’
Ellie smiled and nodded and tried not to appear impatient as Gemma prattled on about her Melbourne shopping spree. At this rate no work would be getting done today.
★
It was dark when Ellie left the gallery, so she decided to grab a taxi. The half-hour walk to the Kingston apartment she shared with Jenn was supposed to fill her exercise quota for the day, but she was tired and wasn’t going to risk being mugged on her way home for the sake of a few exercise tokens.
She could hear Leonard scratching and mewling on the other side of the door as she turned her key in the lock. He was clearly unimpressed at having to wait until after seven for his dinner. ‘I know, I know, I’m sorry.’ She hung her keys on the hook and dumped her laptop bag on the floor before scooping the grumpy ginger up into her arms. ‘I know. It’s late, isn’t it, puss?’
Leonard was having none of her apologies. He wriggled free, jumped to the floor and wound himself between her legs, all the time meowing furiously.
Once his lordship was dealt with Ellie set about feeding herself. She silently thanked her weekend self for having had the presence of mind to cook up a huge batch of WON meals. She selected a container of low-calorie chicken cacciatore from the freezer and popped it in the microwave. While the container of glug was thawing, Ellie switched on her computer and drummed her fingers as the machine went through its start-up process. She was itching to get back to the WON forum to see if there were any further developments since this morning’s big blow-up between Jewels and Shelley.