by Trish Morey
‘Ooh, show me,’ said Tracey.
And Pip slid the garment free, a soft pink top with a tutu skirt and matching leggings with bows.
‘It’s gorgeous, thank you. She’s going to look adorable in that.’
And Pip was feeling all relaxed again when Tracey had to go and ask, ‘So is there someone special back in New York?’
She screwed up her nose. She knew where her friend was headed. ‘Kind of.’
‘Yeah? What’s he like? Are we talking marriage material?’
Chad, marriage material? She laughed out loud. ‘It’s not really serious. We just keep each other company, you know, when we want to go to the movies –’ or we need a shag ‘– or something.’
‘What? Like a boyfriend of convenience or something?’
Pip thought about that. It was convenient, for both of them. And it came without the complications of a normal relationship and having to work out if it was going somewhere or going nowhere and getting all twisted up in knots when it wasn’t going the way you wanted. ‘Something like that, I guess.’
‘So you’re sleeping with him, then?’
‘Hey, what kind of a question is that?’
Tracey batted her eyelashes. ‘A perfectly fair question for a prying friend to ask, given the subject matter. So, are you?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, sometimes. We’re grown-ups. Consenting adults and all that. It is allowed.’
Tracey frowned. ‘But you wouldn’t marry him?’
Pip pulled the last of her stuff out of her case and carried a few pieces to the closet, hanging the dress she’d brought for the funeral and a few other bit and pieces inside. ‘We’re just friends really.’ Although even the word friend was probably overstating it. If they’d been true friends, if they’d been more than convenient bed partners, they might actually have spent more time talking about their likes and dislikes and he probably would have known not to book her a big fat red in-your-face sports car. But she’d sure tell him that, as soon as she got home. ‘It’s just nice to have company sometimes.’
Tracey sighed and unlatched Chloe to switch her to her other breast, giving her time to burp in between. ‘I dunno, Pip, I can’t see the point of spending time with someone you’re not serious about. It’s not like you’re getting any younger.’
‘Ahem, thirty-two is not old.’
‘Maybe not, but there must be millions of eligible bachelors in New York. Why waste time with someone you wouldn’t want to marry?’
Because it was safe.
Non-threatening.
And she had someone to share the lonely nights with if she needed.
But there was no way Trace, who’d met her soulmate in high school and now had three perfect children with him, would understand.
‘Hey,’ she said, heading back to her case and looking for a way to change the subject. Because the subject of Chad was too awkward. Too difficult to explain to anyone who didn’t know what it was like to live in a place like New York City, putting in too many hours during the day to feel like going out at night and hoping to meet someone new. ‘I was engaged once, you know.’
Tracey looked up. ‘When? Who to? You never mentioned that before.’
Maybe because there wasn’t a hell of a lot to tell by the time she put her brief Christmas email together. ‘It was two or three years back. A guy I worked with – well, he was my boss at the time actually.’
‘And?’
‘There’s not that much to tell. We never set a date for the wedding. We never got that far.’
‘So what happened?’
She turned and sat down on the bed. ‘You know, that’s the funny thing. I still don’t really know. He took me home for Thanksgiving to meet his folks and the next week it was over. But then they didn’t seem too happy to meet me, although they were awfully polite of course.’ She pulled a face as she remembered. ‘Painfully polite. About as warm and welcoming as crocodiles, come to think of it.’ She shook her head. ‘He never said anything, but I wondered if they’d threatened to disinherit him or something. I suspect they had plans for him to marry the homecoming queen or something.’
‘Idiots.’ Tracey sniffed. ‘Their loss.’
‘And all of a sudden I found myself moved sideways to a different department and a different boss.’
‘Jerk! He didn’t deserve you.’
‘So you see, Trace, I have been trying.’
Tracey lifted a now dozing Chloe upright on her shoulder. ‘Well, you’ll just have to try harder. You’re way too good a catch to be left sitting on the shelf.’
Chloe burped loudly this time, and Pip laughed. ‘Amen, Chloe,’ she said, and then yawned, tiredness catching up with her.
‘I’d better leave you to get some sleep. But hey, I’ve been meaning to ask – seeing as you’re home for a few days. I was kind of wondering if you might do me a favour?’
‘Sure. Name it.’
‘It’s Chloe’s christening next Sunday. And I was really hoping you’d agree to be her godmother.’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah. You.’
‘Wow. That’s so sweet. But Gran . . .’
Tracey nodded. ‘I know. And I know you’re here for her and you need to be with her.’ She tilted her head. ‘Does anyone, um . . . Do they have any idea how long?’
Pip shook her head. ‘It could be any time. But nobody can say when.’
‘Yeah, I thought that. But if it is at all possible, I’d love it if you could.’
‘Wow, I’m honoured. I really am . . . But even if I can, are you absolutely sure about this? It’s not like I’m such a great role model when it comes to matters spiritual. The only time I’m ever inside a church is for weddings or funerals and it’s not like I even live around here. I can hardly be some great support to Chloe while she’s growing up.’
‘I know. And I understand how great your job is, but what’s to say you’re going to live in the States forever? You never know, you might come home one day. And even if you don’t, I bet Chloe will be only too happy to come and look you up in New York City when she’s old enough. We probably all will. God, Callan’s busting to visit you already! Will you do it, Pip?’
Pip blinked, those damned tears hovering right back there on the brink again. ‘Of course I will.’
Tracey jumped up as fast as she could with a sleeping baby plastered to her chest, and wrapped her free arm around her friend. ‘Oh, Pip, that’s so great! Thank you!’ Then she leaned back on her heels. ‘Um, in that case, there’s probably one other teensy tiny detail I should warn you about.’
‘Oh, hey,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘if I have to read something churchy and religious, I’m probably not your girl. We don’t do that in our family.’
‘Oh no! It’s dead easy. All you have to do is stand there, really, and say that you’ve agreed to be her godmother. No, it’s just that Craig’s asked someone to be Chloe’s godfather.’
‘O-kay.’ Why did she have a bad feeling about this? She didn’t know a lot about modern day christenings, but surely it was normal that there be both a godfather and a godmother? Why was Tracey making out like it was such a big deal? Unless . . . The hackles on the back of her neck stood to attention. ‘Does this someone have a name?’
‘Well, it’s Luke, actually.’
‘Luke.’ She knew it. ‘As in Luke Trenorden, you mean.’
Tracey’s lips pulled tight over her teeth, her eyes more than a little worried. ‘That won’t be a problem, will it? I mean, it’s been ages, after all.’
Pip shook her head, not to say no, but because if she shook it long enough, something might shake loose that could make sense of all this. Because nothing was making sense so far. ‘You seriously want me and Luke to be Chloe’s godparents. Me and Luke. The two of us. Together.’
‘Well, yeah. Luke’s
Craig’s choice, and you’re mine.’
‘What about Fi? Why not ask her?’
‘She’s already godmother to both Ben and Callan. I could hardly ask her again. And besides, you’re here and it would be so nice.’
Nice.
Pip had an idea about what comprised nice and Luke Trenorden didn’t feature anywhere in it. ‘I was really hoping not to bump into Luke while I was here.’ And already she had. Already she had to cope with the discovery that he wasn’t looking middle-aged and porky. The thought of having to rub shoulders with him again . . .
‘Maybe it’s time you two buried the hatchet. You used to be so close.’
‘Used to be being the operative words there, Trace.’
‘Yeah, but all that was a long time ago.’
‘And I’m still angry with him! Besides which, I don’t think Sharon will be too impressed if I do it. I still remember her glaring at me at Fi’s wedding, like she was worried the ghost of girlfriends past was going to snatch away her prize catch from under her nose.’
Tracey looked up. ‘Oh. You didn’t hear?’
‘Hear what?’
‘Sharon’s gone. Left Luke a good three or four years back.’
‘What? Why?’
Her friend shrugged. ‘Who knows? Apparently she started seeing this guy while they were still married and now she’s shacked up with him in Adelaide somewhere.’
‘The bitch!’
‘Yeah, well, Luke seems to be blessed with women who cut and run.’
Oh, no. She wasn’t about to let herself be shoved in the same box as a woman who had been unfaithful to him. ‘Come on, Trace, that’s a bit harsh.’
‘Is it? You left him high and dry too. You walked away and left him.’
‘It’s hardly the same thing. I wasn’t being unfaithful. I didn’t just walk out on him for no reason. He let me down too.’
‘Pip, it was hardly his fault.’
‘He knew, dammit. He knew and he never said.’
‘I know. But would you really have wanted to hear, even if he had told you?’
She shook her head and this time it was to deny Tracey the reply she knew her friend was looking for. Because she would have wanted to know. Anyone in the same position would have wanted to know.
Tracey didn’t wait for her to answer, just gathered up Chloe in her arms and said, ‘God, I’m sorry, Pip, I shouldn’t have said anything and now I’ve gone and upset you on your first day back. And that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m really just so glad you’re here. Truly. You decide what you want to do and let me know.’
She gave her shoulder a squeeze and Pip listened numbly while she told her about the provisions in the fridge and the rudimentary pantry if she wanted to have breakfast and get away early to the nursing home. ‘But you’re welcome over in the house if you want to eat with us.’
Pip smiled and leant against her friend for a moment in the doorway before she left, breathing in the sweet smell of baby and a woman that smelled of apple pie and friendship. ‘I’m sorry, Trace. I’m tired and jet-lagged and cranky. I’ll be better tomorrow, I promise.’
‘And I promise not to upset you.’ She kissed her friend on the brow. ‘Sleep well, sweetie.’
‘I will. And Trace, I mean it. I’d love to be Chloe’s godmother. I’ll be there, subject to Gran. Just so you know.’
Tracey smiled and pulled her into a goodnight hug.
Chapter Nine
The bed was wide and soft and blissful. But that wasn’t the best thing about it. The best thing was that it didn’t come with the drone of aeroplane engines or the muted sounds and lights of NYC outside her window.
The best thing was that it came with the sounds of silence.
Which was perfect for an entire ten minutes before the silence suddenly sounded deafening.
It was a relief when she heard the car. It was definitely a car. She heard it coming, and coming, and still coming – and then she heard it go, and keep going.
One car.
And not even on the dirt road, she realised, but on the sealed highway between Moonta and Maitland that was the best part of a mile away.
And then there was nothing again. Silence, as thick and dampening as a winter cloud.
Silence.
Nothing to hear but her thoughts.
He wasn’t married.
She rolled over onto her back and stared upwards into the darkness. What a surprise her thoughts would toss that gem up first?
But what did that matter?
It wasn’t like she was interested. She’d breathed a sigh of relief when she’d first read the news he’d married. He’d moved on. Everyone was moving on. It was how it should be.
So what that his marriage was over? They’d all had failed relationships.
She rolled over, punched her pillow and got out of bed to open the curtains. She was exhausted. She should have been asleep by now, but if she couldn’t sleep, she might as well look at the stars.
All she needed to do was think about all those gorgeous stars.
He’d looked so damned good today.
Not that she’d been looking. Well, it had been hard not to. Didn’t mean anything.
She gave up on the promise of the stars and rolled over again, wishing she could roll away from her thoughts, and cursing a man she’d had no intention of meeting up with, cursing the bastard fates that hadn’t let her get through even one day back without running into him, and were now promising a second encounter. What was with that?
Luke Trenorden was nothing to her, and she had more important things to think about.
Like her tiny, shrunken gran.
No. Her amazing gran.
Yes, that’s what she should be thinking about.
Amazing Gran, who’d shown her how to milk cows and separate cream from milk in a separator, and then how to churn that cream into butter and pat it into blocks with wooden paddles.
Amazing Gran, who’d taught her to use a treadle sewing machine so well that she’d won the sewing prize at high school – even when everyone else had been using electric machines.
Amazing Gran, who could make a wood stove do her bidding, whether it was cooking a roast or a batch of her famous fairy cakes.
Ninety years ago she’d been born, in a time when the fortunes of the Yorke Peninsula were already moving beyond the glory days of the rich copper mines of Moonta and Kadina and Wallaroo. Since then the trains had come and gone, and towering silos had risen high above the golden paddocks where mine shafts had once been dug.
Ninety years between then and now, and still the silence of the night hung heavy on the land. Still the same stars twinkled down upon the earth.
So many changes in all those years, she thought, as she drifted. So many changes.
And yet so much stayed the same . . .
Morning came with such a blast of sunshine through the open curtains that it was impossible for Pip to roll over and ignore it. There was no going back to sleep.
So she rubbed her eyes against the glare and found her phone and some new messages from Carmen.
How’s your gran?
More importantly – how are you?
The third one made her smile.
So tell me about the wildlife
Pip lay back against her pillows as she texted back. She knew exactly what kind of wildlife her flatmate was referring to.
Gran’s holding.
I’m fine.
She bit her lip at the sudden flash of memory of a man in jeans and Blundstones but overrode that thought to text,
And there’s a guy called Adam. A policeman.
A reply came back almost instantaneously.
Love a man in uniform!
He pulled me over. Flashing lights, the lot.
Lucky you! Cu
te?
Pretty much.
Jealous!
Pip sent her back a smiley face and hauled herself from the bed. One night she’d treat herself to a spa, but for now the shower was hot and strong and Pip lifted her face into the stream and luxuriated in the flow. Daylight and hot showers had a wonderful way of putting things into perspective, she thought, letting the water sluice away the overblown concerns of the night. Luke was an inconvenience, that was all. She’d seen him once and she’d survived the experience and so she would again.
Case closed.
Now she’d slept and felt almost human again and it was a brand new day. And from now on there would be no more shocks, no more feeling sorry for herself and no more of those damned tears.
She could hardly wait.
It was still way too early to bother anyone else when she slipped away, although the morning sun already felt hot to her winter skin. And unlike the drive out, when she’d been battling fatigue, the drive back to the nursing home this morning was a pleasure. The rising sun turned the golden paddocks brazen and bold, and there were details she’d missed last night, details she’d forgotten about in her time away, like the clusters of paddy melons every now and then along the highway, and the callistemons with their brushes of vivid red. She smiled as a car passed her the other way, because she’d also forgotten about the country salute, the two fingers raised while the palm stayed on the steering wheel.
By the time she reciprocated, the car was well past, but that didn’t matter. They wouldn’t think her rude as such. They’d have taken one look at the Audi and assumed she was some ignorant city chick.
Which made her smile, because she kind of was.
‘Morning Gran,’ she said a few minutes later when she arrived at the nursing home, kissing her papery brow before sliding into the seat alongside the bed. Aled Jones was singing ‘How Great Thou Art’ on the CD player and her gran’s eyes were closed, but there was that momentary twitch of the lips, that flicker of recognition that someone was there, and Pip smiled and gently put her fingers into her cool palm and chatted a while about the farm and Chloe and the dinner she’d had last night that had reminded her of dinners around their own kitchen table so many years ago. She reminisced about the treats Gran used to make for her and Trent – the butterfly cakes and thickly cut corned beef sandwiches they’d take out to the stone mounds with a flask of cordial to keep them fuelled for another day’s construction work hollowing out their hidey hole. And how, when he could slip away from his chores, Luke would join them. Sometimes they’d pretend they were deep inside a pirate ship and Luke was the captain. But more often than not the stone mounds would be their fortress, a stone castle where nobody could hurt them.