I made myself smile. “Mrs. Ferris. Good to see you.” In fact, it was good to see a familiar face. I could feel a kernel of sunshine open up inside me.
“Jillian Wilson!” She slapped a hand down on the counter and broke into a wide, genuine grin. “Lordy, you’ve grown up. My Bruce always had a torch for you, you know.” She was short and stout with toilet brush hair, and had always reminded me of Beatrix Potter’s Mrs. Tiggy Winkle.
I smiled as sheepishly as I could. “Don’t embarrass me, Mrs. Ferris. How is Bruce?”
“Got two littlies now. I’m a grandma five times over.”
I remembered that Bruce had a younger sister, but I couldn’t remember her name.
Before I could comment on that she said, “What are you in town for? Not to see your Grandma. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”
“Me too.”
Neither of us mentioned the fact that I hadn’t come home for the funeral. I’d never wanted to see Dakaroo again. I was such a coward.
Clearly, nothing had changed.
She took her attention off me to glance at the petrol bowsers where a big rig had pulled in, and she flicked something on her computer. “Visiting friends, then?”
“Having some time out. Got sick of the big smoke.”
Her grin came back. “Good for you, girl. Have you got a place to stay?”
“Not yet. I’ve just arrived.”
Something on her console started beeping and she muttered, “Hold your horses,” at the truckie outside as she pushed buttons until finally it stopped. Then she turned back to me. “Got a spare room myself. Could use a boarder, helping me make rent. My Barney passed a few years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Ferris.”
Something in her kindly expression made me want to burst into tears and I told myself it was just tiredness, but she must have sensed something else. She patted my hand on the counter and then reached under it and pulled out a set of keys. “At least stay today, until you get sorted.” She slid one off the keyring and put it down in front of me. “Back door. You remember where I live?”
“Sure. 66 Baker.” I could probably have remembered her phone number if she’d asked me. Our childhoods in this town had been so simple it felt like every detail was engraved on my mind.
“Good girl.” She nodded. “Grab a shower and some sleep. The bed in the front room’s made up. I’ll be home around midday and we can talk.”
I nodded, suddenly too choked up to speak.
Why in the hell had I run away from this place? I was every sort of idiot Finn imagined me to be, and more.
“See you then,” I said, and snatched up the key as the door jingled to announce the arrival of the truckie.
Mrs. Ferris shouted over my head. “You’re an impatient bastard,” and he laughed out loud.
“And you’re a saucy wench. So when are you running away with me?”
I let myself out and drove to her tiny white weatherboard home with its iron roof, and managed to get inside before I started crying. Despite the fact that it was pre-dawn, the inside of the house was baking hot—I’d forgotten how cruel summers were here. Every surface was covered in ornaments, doilies and her biscuit tin collection. I threw open casement windows to let in the feeble breeze, but a storm was brewing so I hurried to look in cupboards for a towel and had a quick shower. When I was clean, I shut the house up again, in case the storm didn’t wake me and her worn regency rugs got wet. That wouldn’t be the best way to thank someone for their hospitality.
Then I found the front room and crashed onto the dusty single bed, thankful for the oblivion of exhaustion, but there was no escaping Finn. Even my dreams were wracked with torturous images of him drowning and me drowning, and neither of us able to see each other over the huge waves surrounding us. In the dream I was sure I would die.
Reality, however, had other plans.
I lived.
I took a temporary job in the local child-care centre wiping small bottoms, dishing out finger-paint and peeling play-dough off miniature tables and chairs. The kids were rambunctious one minute, and endearingly cute the next, and probably the best thing to distract me from a broken heart and ticking biological clock.
A fortnight in I received an email from Sieu, informing me that they’d organized a bank loan for Bohemian Brew, as Fritha had called it, and no further startup funds were required.
I was relieved beyond measure that I’d never have to husband sit again, and sickened by the thought that even though I’d been horrible to Finn, he would have organized that to help Fritha and I. So I didn’t fight it. I just signed the paperwork and sent it back. I knew it would make him feel better, to know I wasn’t sleeping with strange men. It was the least I could do to make amends for the pain I’d caused him.
Mrs Ferris was lovely, but I needed my space, so soon after I got Sieu’s email, I moved into my own flat. Unfortunately, five weeks later I was still crying myself to sleep at night over Finn, wondering if Lizzie had birthed his child yet, and if they were one big happy family, maybe even living in the same house. Every morning I woke up with a sense of why am I bothering because the future looked anything but bright.
I got emails from Fritha, with pictures of the shop fit out, and despite my ennui, I followed her Facebook page and Liked everything she posted. Sieu sent me financial statements, and I started answering calls from Ange who’d moved in with her cousin, was working at a local delicatessen, and had filed for divorce. Missy Lou and I were on a text-only basis, and that was okay. I’d formally apologized to her and Ange for bailing that morning when they both needed moral support, and she’d accepted that. Things were stilted but that was fairly normal with Louella.
I did my best not to think of Finn, and I didn’t drink. I didn’t dare, in case I Googled him and set the whole ‘healing’ thing back. But he filled my dreams, and when the kids made me laugh, as they inevitably did, that reminded me of him too. Every meal I ate reminded me of his cooking, conversation about cricket reminded me of that first night before we’d even kissed.
In hindsight, it was easy to see why I’d fallen in love with him. It wasn’t because of the sex, although the desire between us had been furnace hot. It was about the everyday moments that had made me feel cherished. The way he fixed the zipper on my laptop bag when it stuck. And when he found out I was a vegetarian, he cleared the refrigerator of meat and put it all in the freezer, which was really thoughtful.
He never called a plumber for the tap in the main bathroom, but I suspected that was because he liked me bathing in his ensuite, even though he was awkward about it. And after I’d stormed out and left my shampoo there, he told me he’d stiffed it from time to time, to remind himself of how I smelt. And maybe that was about sex, but it was also incredibly sweet.
He’d loved me with desire, and thoughtfulness, and fun and sharing, and no other man had done that. Finn had always held my hand when we crossed the road, and waited for me to go first through doorways or into elevators, scoping my ass for sure! But it was still the sort of old fashioned manners that I adored, especially when it was clearly second-nature, and not put on to impress.
I tried hard not to dwell on what I’d lost, but Mrs. Ferris forced me into catching up with old school friends, and their happy banter with their husbands and wives couldn’t help but reminded me of all the things I wouldn’t be having in my own life. I felt bad about not visiting the girl’s parents while I was in town, but I just didn’t feel strong enough for an inquisition, and the girls understood. Ange specifically told me to stay away from her mother if I wanted any privacy! So I did.
Brittany rang me every Sunday when Jase was at footy and she was bored, and I tried to sound interested in their ‘domestic bliss’ in Tottenham, down the street from his parent’s house. I wanted to imagine that her regular phone calls were a result of guilt at what she’d put me through, but it was probably just boredom, as she’d said.
I didn’t hear from Finn, not even when I
stupidly sent him a text that said I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. Not that I could blame him. Talk about trite.
Unfortunately, it was true. I deeply regretted the way I’d treated him, especially that last horrible outburst. And I loved him enough to want him to be happy. I knew he never would be with me, because I could never imagine being un-jealous about Lizzie and her baby. I couldn’t ask him to strip away parts of his life, particularly the child he would want to interact with as it grew. So I could only hope he met some rational woman who would accept his situation and not turn psycho about it like I had.
That bullshit about better to have loved and lost? Well it was bullshit. Most days I wished I’d never met him, because being without him was miserable.
I did grow to love the kids I worked with, and I could see they doted on me. A handful were real little cherubs, and their cuddles and enthusiastic kisses made me feel as if I was doing good things on the planet, which was a bright spot in each day. I might not be able to love Finn the way I wanted to, but I could love them. And I did.
So things were grinding along slowly and surely—time was doing its work—as Mrs. Ferris would say. And I was okay.
Until Lizzie arrived.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Perspective Is A Beautiful Thing
It was the end of a work day and I’d let myself into my tiny furnished flat with its overlarge flat-screen TV, giant recliner and huge fridge—clearly designed for guys working mining shifts. I was on my way to the shower to wash off the day’s finger paint when I heard a knock on the door.
That struck me as unusual, because I hadn’t told anyone my address. I’d always gone to their houses to protect my privacy. As Mrs. Ferris had said, You never know when you might cry. It was best not to have awkward visitors. So, maybe a door-to-door salesman?
No.
I pulled the door open on Lizzie.
I knew it was her straight away. Short, fluffy, blond hair. Wide blue eyes. Golden skin and freckles. Tentative smile. I wanted to hate her. And I particularly wanted to hate the conspicuous belly that poked out between her cut-off jeans and her singlet. But damn her, she was adorable, like a golden kitten.
Before I could open my mouth, Sieu appeared in the doorway and put an arm around Lizzie’s shoulders, completely ignoring me to say, “I told you to let me go first.”
Lizzie shook her head like a recalcitrant child, her gaze never straying from mine. “It’s my story. I’m telling it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Sieu threw up her hands. “See. I told you she’d be a bitch and you’d get your feelings hurt.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I dealt with pregnant women regularly at work, and even when delivering unfortunate news about playground mishaps, I tried hard not to upset them. I didn’t like the idea that their little burdens would be affected by angst. I certainly didn’t like the idea that Finn’s child would ever be hurt by me.
So I put out a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude. But I’m trying to get over Finn. Dragging all this back up—”
“Lizzie?” Sieu ignored me to speak to her wife. “Let me handle this.”
“Five minutes and I’m coming back,” Lizzie told her.
Sieu put the car keys into her tiny hand. “I parked in the shade. Turn the car on so you have aircon.”
Little Lizzie pinned Sieu with a surprisingly hard look. “Make this happen,” she said, then without glancing at me, she tottered away.
I folded my arms. “Make what happen?”
Sieu watched Lizzie walk off, then she turned to face me. “May I come in?” When I didn’t respond immediately she added, “I’ve just driven six hours from Brisbane with my pregnant wife. For you. I would appreciate the courtesy of five minutes of your time.”
That put things in perspective.
“Sure.” I pointed at the brown leather recliner. The only chair in the room.
She walked over to it and sat down. I closed the door and turned to face her, crossing my arms again.
She looked every bit as hip as she had the first time I’d seen her, still in her customary black jeans and black tee-shirt, but her long black hair looked like it needed a cut, and her eyes, behind her trendy glasses, were tired.
I opened the conversation with, “Thanks for the paperwork about the business.”
She nodded. “Bohemian Brew is going to be successful. Your friend is savvy about her market.”
“Good.” There was a pause before I added, “How did you find me?”
“Facebook and the electoral roll.”
“You can search that?”
“Anyone can.”
I’d never tried to hide before, and it had never occurred to me that changing my status from itinerant voter to a voter with an actual address, would come back to bite me.
But Sieu didn’t want to linger on that topic. She came right out and said, “If Finn knew I was here I’d lose my job.”
“Okay.” I wanted to be unmoved by her statement, but curiosity started stirring.
“He’s a wreck.” She shook her head, then leant back on the big recliner, like a liquorice stick in a baseball glove. “I’ve never seen him so despondent, and we’ve worked together for five years.”
I swallowed down a sick feeling in my belly and said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You look no better.”
“Thanks.” Nice to know my cheery demeanor wasn’t fooling anyone. “So you came here to see me…?”
“Lizzie wants to talk to you about Finn. I told her it was pointless. You’re too pig-headed. But she wants her say.”
“I see.”
Sieu stood slowly then, and though her hands were at her sides, there was something menacing in her stance. Or perhaps it was the way one eye twitched. “If you upset her…” She nodded slowly. “I think you know how angry I’ll be.”
Okay. So they were coming with unwanted conversation and now threats. I really wanted to get my back up about this, but…pregnant woman, six hour drive. It had to be important. So I held back my snarky comment and said, “Okay, I’ll listen to Lizzie. I assume it won’t take long. I’ve been invited to dinner tonight.” That was a lie, but I could always visit one of my school friends if Sieu followed me. The locals seemed happy with unexpected visitors, even if I didn’t.
But Sieu was frowning. “A date?”
“No!”
Both her eyebrows rose and I realized too late how appalled I’d sounded—as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world to have moved on. When really, that might have nipped any matchmaking she’d planned in the bud.
Instead, she said, “Of course. You look as depressed as he does.”
I drew in a calming breath. “I promise to be nice to Lizzie. The fact that she’s waddling around with Finn’s baby in her belly, clearly isn’t her fault.”
Okay, so that was narky.
Predictably, Sieu arced up. “Listen, sister,” she said, and pointed a finger at me. “If I can live with that, you sure as hell can. That’s my wife out there,” and she pointed to the door. “And having to wait around while she was inseminated with some man’s sperm was way harder than you hearing about it. So if she wants to talk, you’ll damned well listen. Got it?”
For a slender woman, she sure had ‘menacing’ down pat. I just nodded. The last thing I wanted was detail about Finn’s sperm in Lizzie’s twat. I was sure that would hurt. But maybe that’s what I needed. Lately I’d had to re-read my journal to remind myself why I wasn’t crawling on my belly over cut glass to get to him. He was having a baby with another woman. Hearing the details might just help me move on.
I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. “Bring it.” And I gestured to the door.
Sieu marched out, glaring at me on the way. I waited at the door while she went to the rental car and tenderly helped Lizzie out. For such a tiny thing, her belly was big, and it took her time to make her way back to my door. I let her in and gestured to t
he recliner which she slid into with a sigh.
“Cold water?” I asked and she nodded gratefully. When I had that out of the way, I returned to the closed door, leant back against it with my arms crossed, and said, “Let’s get this over with.”
“Do you love him?”
That’s not what I’d expected her to say. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone,” I said, because I couldn’t see any point in lying.
“But…?”
I pointed at her belly. “You got there first.”
She stared at me with wide anguished eyes, as though struggling to cope with the fact that her baby stood between Finn and I, when I’d imagined that was a no-brainer.
She didn’t respond so I decided to cut to the chase. “I’m not sure how telling me the gory details of how you talked Sieu’s boss into getting you pregnant is going to—”
“He’s my cousin,” she cut in. “Sieu met him through me.”
“Pardon?” My mouth wanted to hang open and I struggled to close it. “He’s your cousin. Ew!”
“Not by blood.” She flapped her hands as though to push the idea away. “I was a foster child in his aunt’s home. He’s like a big brother to me.”
I was pulling a face but I couldn’t help it. “And he…Yuk.”
Her eyes narrowed determinedly. “I wanted our baby to have genetic material I knew. Not some random donor. I wanted… family.”
“But you just said he’s not.” I couldn’t stop myself being reactive. This was just too bizarre.
“I know Finn,” she went on firmly. “I’ve been with his aunt since I was six. That’s when my mother died.”
Lizzie’s mother died?
The wind went out of my sails and my Yuk reaction faded in the face of our connection. We were two little girls who’d been shunted to new mothers—her to Finn’s Aunt, me to my Gran.
“Finn is perfectly healthy,” she went on, “and he’s also gentle and kind and lovely.”
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