Home Truths

by Louise Forster

  Sofie watched her daughter walk with purpose down the hall to work on her essays. ‘It won’t be long and she’ll drop the Goth make-up. Lately she only slaps it on when she goes out.’

  ‘The Goth make-up really doesn’t matter,’ Jennifer said. ‘Do you think she wears it more as a shield to hide behind?’

  ‘Sadly, yes.’

  ‘Mum — Mum!’ Claudia sang out, hurrying back down the hall. She came charging into the kitchen. ‘I’m gunna take a break. I swear I’ll get the essays done. Michelle asked me to the Highland band picnic! It’s a small fund-raiser at Centennial Park. Can I have twenty for the sausage sizzle and dunking the math teacher in the tub — twice?’

  ‘I’ll meet you halfway. Ten dollars should do fine,’ Sofie said.

  ‘Done.’ Claudia took off. ‘Gunna get dressed.’

  ‘You look surprised.’ Jennifer pursed her lips against a smile.

  ‘That was so easy,’ Sofie said in wonder.

  ‘That’s because she wanted ten in the first place.’ Jennifer smiled and crossed her arms. ‘We used that trick all the time, remember?’

  Sofie frowned. ‘Oh. No more coffees for Claudie.’

  ‘Why don’t you go have a look around, spend the other ten?’

  ‘I think I will — you coming?’

  ‘Maybe later. Calum’s coming past to have another look at that weird space behind the closet. I can’t leave; he might turn up in his kilt.’

  Jennifer waved her sister off outside the restaurant. ‘And leave the men in kilts alone,’ she called.

  ‘Hell no!’ Sofie yelled, then stopped and turned to give Jennifer a cheeky look. ‘I wonder if Brock’s in a kilt. That’d be something.’ With a hand to her mouth, Sofie’s eyes grew round, she giggled and said, ‘He is so beautiful! Ooh, I might even get to see his legs…’ Sofie gave a shiver and disappeared into the crowd.

  Jennifer shook her head and silently hoped that big, muscled, kilted Brock would sweep Sofie off her feet. She closed the door and immediately the bright morning sun softened through the frosted glass and the happy crowd noises were muffled. Smiling, she moved around the tables and started setting them up ready for the opening. Pottering in her own space was a dream.

  The restaurant and everything in it belonged to her and her family. They were in charge. They would make it happen.

  ‘G’day, Twinkles.’ Calum kissed the back of her neck.

  Jennifer screamed. ‘You can’t do that! I might be holding a knife.’ She threw her arms around his neck.

  ‘Sorry, I was sure you heard me. I’ll make more noise next time.’

  ‘Thanks for that amazing surprise this morning. We’ll never forget how Bret played the drums in a marching band.’

  ‘He’s a reluctant kilt wearer, says they’re scratchy. He did really well.’

  She looked him up and down and a slow grin eased into her face. ‘I see you’ve still got yours on?’

  ‘Don’t give me the eye.’

  ‘Who, me?’ She pointed to his arm. ‘What’ve you got there?’

  ‘I brought a change of clothes.’

  ‘I like what you’ve got on, you look dapper, sexy-dapper.’ Jennifer slowly licked her lips.

  His gaze turned wicked. ‘I’ll race you to the closet.’ He took off and was on the stairs in a flash, Jennifer at his heels.

  She looked up just in time to see Calum’s kilt swing out. ‘You have a great arse.’

  In a flash, he was down the hall and in the bedroom stripping off his piper’s jacket and toeing off his shoes.

  ‘Anything else coming off?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Then he was in the closet. ‘You coming?’ he asked, voice muffled.

  ‘Just a sec.’ Jennifer kicked off her sneakers and when she caught up, he was checking out the wall behind the belts and ties. She sidled past him, her hands sliding over the old timber from the top to the base.

  Calum edged towards her and climbed over her legs to straddle her hips. ‘Sorry.’ He moved over Jennifer.

  ‘No you’re not,’ she quipped.

  He flipped Jennifer onto her back and almost fell on top of her. ‘This closet is insane,’ he murmured, hot and hungry.

  Jennifer wriggled underneath him, and they kissed for a long time. She cupped his face, and eased him back. ‘Okay, let’s face it. This could go on all afternoon.’ She may not have been able to see him properly, but she felt his grin beneath her palms.

  ‘You’re right, got to find the secret tunnel that leads to the treasure.’

  Jennifer laughed. ‘I thought you’d already done that.’

  ‘I love it when you talk dirty,’ he said and nuzzled her neck.

  Her hands found his butt and squeezed. ‘Nice skirt.’

  ‘Kilt, it’s a kilt. Tough Scottish Highlanders would be wounded in a deep and very profound way to hear you say skirt.’

  ‘Okay, kilt then. C’mon, superman, if you can’t hover, get off me.’

  ‘Let go of my arse then.’ Jennifer gave it a last squeeze and he lifted himself up. ‘Later then,’ he murmured with meaning.

  Jennifer laughed. She flipped back onto her stomach, hands out, and moved up where the back panel met the side. Her fingers touched something other than smooth timber. ‘Don’t move, I think I found it.’

  ‘Where?’

  She clasped his forearm and guided him to a small hole, just big enough for a man’s finger, midway between the floor and ceiling of the closet.

  ‘What will happen if we pull it across?’ Jennifer whispered, sounding anxious.

  ‘The world as we know it will end?’

  She found his shoulder and thumped him. ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Let’s see.’ Calum pressed the metal clip with his finger. A wall panel slid back to reveal an opening the size of a door.

  Jennifer sucked in a breath and stared at the black entrance before her. Excitement, with a touch of anxiety, prickled her skin. She stepped a little closer, reached forward and felt around for something — anything.

  ‘Jen?’ Calum was right behind her.

  ‘All I can feel is…air. It smells stale, mingled with perfume. Lavender?’ Scary warning bells clanged in her mind, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up, sending goose bumps down her entire body. She groped in the dark.

  ‘Did you hear that? Something rustled, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Hold on, I’ll go first,’ Calum suggested. ‘Can you scoot over?’

  ‘Sure.’ Jennifer moved back, hands feeling the way. But she stepped on his feet. ‘Oops, sorry.’

  A low rumble left Calum’s throat. ‘Woman, you drive me nuts — in a good way…in case you’re wondering.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here, I’d hate to do this alone. And the one person I hope we don’t need later is Brock.’ A shudder rippled down her spine.

  ‘Have a little faith in your uncle. There’s nothing scary in here. Hang on, I’m looking for a light switch.’

  Jennifer heard a click-click, but nothing happened.

  ‘I’ll get a torch,’ Calum said.

  ‘You’re not leaving me here alone, I’ll get the torch.’ Jennifer hurried to the pantry and back. ‘You ready?’ she asked.

  She sought his hand in the dark, held it tight and took a deep breath. She turned the torch on and gasped: its light reflected and sparkled in an array of stunning colours. This was not what she had expected, and the art nouveau lampshade hanging from the ceiling topped it off.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ she breathed as she gazed at all the beautiful things.

  Calum’s face lit up as he scanned the room. ‘This is it — this is what we’re so worried about?’

  ‘They may not have been Uncle Bob’s,’ Jennifer whispered. ‘Like you said, they could belong to the previous owners of this house.’

  Calum pointed out a photo hanging on the wall of Bob all dressed up in a soft pink, sequinned gown, and a long, wavy blonde wig. Her uncle had signed the bottom.

  It read…Ver
onica.

  ‘Veronica! I wore her — his — nightie. Good heavens, Connie and Shirley saw me wearing it and the stilettos. They went as white as a sheet and behaved strangely.’ She shone the torch at Calum. Instantly, his eyes screwed up against the light, and he gently turned her hand away. ‘They know something, there’s no doubt.’

  Calum’s smiled widened. He held back a chuckle.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘This is,’ Calum said, lifting a frock. Sequins shimmered before he put it back.

  ‘Obviously my uncle felt the need to hide his secret other life.’ Taking offence on his behalf, Jennifer’s voice rose, ‘He meant for no one to see it or find it, even after he was dead!’

  ‘You don’t get me, it’s amusing, but I wouldn’t have laughed at him. Though some in town would have, there’s no doubt about that. As I said, I won’t say anything to anyone — okay? What Bob did in his private life was his business.’ He shrugged and looked around. ‘At least I know why Gran loved sewing.’

  ‘Connie made these?’

  ‘Yep, Gran has a sewing room. We hardly go in there. If we asked who’s that for, her answer was always the same. For a friend who loved to dress up and go to cocktail parties in Sydney and Canberra. She loved making them.’

  ‘They’re stunning, Connie has quite a talent.’

  ‘It’s a pity they’re hidden in a closet. It’s all so, I don’t know — harmless?’ He scratched his head, bemused. ‘Mind you, I don’t understand it.’

  ‘He loved all pretty things.’ Jennifer opened a small drawer, peered in and found a folded bundle of papers tied with red ribbon. ‘He had a beautiful soul. I wish I’d told him that, and more.’

  Calum closed in on Jennifer, cupped her face and stroked her tears away. ‘The way he talked about you, Sofie, Claudia and Bret…he knew how much you loved him, without a doubt. That’s probably why he kept his failing heart a secret. He knew you would’ve dropped everything to be here with him, and he loved you too much to burden you and your sister with that.’

  A smile wavered on Jennifer’s face. ‘Have you been talking to Father Thomas?’

  Calum pulled a face. ‘Nice bloke, but nuh.’ He felt for his shirt pocket. ‘Got a hanky in here somewhere.’

  ‘In your purse?’ Jennifer giggled

  ‘This is a sporran, lassie,’ Calum tried for a Scottish brogue.

  ‘Still looks like a purse to me and when you think about it, this room is you, you’re wearing a skirt as well.’

  ‘Don’t knock the skirt, you like what’s under there.’ He grinned, took her hand in his and kissed her palm. ‘So all this is going to stay right here?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ll use the gowns in the restaurant, give it a 1940s theme.’

  ‘How are you going to explain where they come from?’

  ‘Do I have to?’

  Jennifer kissed him and backed out of the secret room and the closet. Calum followed. Away from the closed space and lavender, her head cleared. She began to pace in front of him.

  ‘Do you know how sad this is? How awful that a gentle man, like my uncle, couldn’t be himself in a community that loved and respected him?’

  Calum rubbed his jaw and frowned. ‘I understand it all too well.’

  Chapter 18

  ‘Oh my God! Are you saying that you do this as well?’

  ‘Hell no!’ Calum’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes penetrated hers to drive his point home. ‘But look carefully at what you’ve suggested I might be — and the way I’ve just denied it. What does that make us?’

  ‘Christ! Uncle Bob, I’m so sorry. I would’ve accepted all of this. I would’ve helped him choose fabrics.’ Tears trickled down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands. ‘He must’ve suffered terribly, why didn’t he say something?’

  She felt his warm fingers under her chin. She pulled her hands away and Calum dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘Found it in my purse,’ he said with a lopsided grin.

  ‘Thanks,’ she sniffed and took his handkerchief to blow her nose. ‘A hanky. I thought these were a thing of the past?’

  ‘Not with Gran.’ A smile eased into Calum’s face.

  ‘That’s true.’ Jennifer smiled through her tears. ‘The first time I met Connie she pulled one out of her bra.’

  Calum’s mobile rang and he grabbed his jeans off the floor and tugged the mobile out of the pocket. ‘Yeah.’ Frustrated, he ran his fingers into his hair. ‘You’ve checked everything? I’ll be right there.’ He turned to Jennifer. ‘Sorry, the pub staff are freaking out because the beer fridge is on the fritz. The cleaner probably went behind it with his mop, blindfolded, and accidentally knocked the plug. I’ll be back in half an hour, an hour tops.’ He undid his kilt and stripped off his shirt. He stood in front of her, naked.

  Jennifer tried to keep a straight face.

  ‘Go back into Bob’s room — what’re you grinning at?’

  ‘I’ve just discovered my uncle’s secret room of gowns, and you’re standing naked in front of me, being very tender and caring, and telling me that everything’s okay.’

  ‘Yeah, pretty much,’ he kissed her forehead. ‘Enjoy what Bob’s left here for you. And think carefully how you approach Sofie.’ He put his shirt, socks and boots on, brushed his lips over hers, and gave her a heart-thudding smile as he turned and ran out, yelling, ‘Nearly forgot. Gran and Shirl are coming past pretty soon!’

  ‘Oh, great,’ Jennifer called back. ‘I can handle that. No worries.’

  She stepped back into the closet and the secret room. Did she want to leave her uncle’s other life hidden?

  No, definitely not.

  She shone the torch around the racks. Glittering evening gowns of all colours and descriptions hung carefully draped with plastic covers to protect them from dust.

  Jennifer felt the blood drain from her face as a shocking realisation hit. Her parents, notably her mother, must have discovered Bob was cross-dressing and cut him dead all those years ago. And that’s why he’d cut his father out of the wedding photo. Jennifer had heard about her grandfather and his stern disciplinarian ways. Stories about him were coming back to her now, and she realised the outward image had started with her grandfather, it had been his ugly obsession. The slightest indiscretion by his children would send him into a rage. Jennifer recalled snippets her uncle had said in passing. ‘If I ever came to the dining table without a long-sleeved shirt on, I was sent to my room without dinner, but not without a thrashing.’ And he’d laugh it off. Jennifer’s grandfather had probably discovered his son enjoyed dressing up and that’s why Gran was alone in the wedding photo.

  Jennifer slid to the floor, her back against the wall. She covered her face and cried for the years of pain and loneliness her uncle had had to endure.

  Slowly, she pulled herself together. She blew her nose on Calum’s handkerchief and started her investigation. In a large chest of drawers, she found underwear, corsets, bras and fake boobs. Chiffon scarves and lace shawls. The shoe rack had various stilettos in all manner of styles and colours. Neatly arranged on shelves were boxes of wigs — bobs, curls, long and straight or wavy.

  She recognised a gown from one of the black and white glamour photos hanging in the hall. It looked to be a replica of the one Ginger Rogers wore in the 1934 movie The Gay Divorcee. The heavy velvet gown had a deep green hem slowly fading to a pale green at the waist. It had a sweetheart bodice, and from the shoulders hung narrow lengths of the same deep green velvet as the hem.

  A large make-up case stood on top of a chest. Jennifer pulled one of the drawers open: beautiful costume jewellery sparkled on a red velvet tray.

  ‘Everything’s here to turn Bob into the perfect glamour queen, Veronica.’

  Jennifer squatted down to look at the array of stilettos, some sequinned. A carved, wooden box behind the shoe rack caught her eye. She reached over and picked it up.

  ‘Marilyn?’ She breathed the name written on the lid in gold leaf. Jenn
ifer figured her uncle probably had several stars he enjoyed dressing up as. Perhaps Veronica was his favourite.

  She had to talk to Sofie. Searching for her at the picnic could take hours. She decided to leave it as a surprise for when everyone got home. Jennifer gazed at Veronica’s photo.

  ‘I want to bring all these beautiful things out into the daylight. There’s no need for shame. I am proud of you, Uncle Bob — Veronica.’

  A noise startled Jennifer; she moved out of the closet and called out, ‘Hello, is anyone there?’

  ‘Jen, it’s me, Sofe, I’ve got Connie and Shirley with me.’

  Jennifer’s heart skipped as she went down the hall. She waited for them on the landing.

  ‘We met Sofie at the sausage sizzle and Calum at the front door.’ Connie seemed a little breathless from climbing the stairs. As she took the last tread, Jennifer held out her hand.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Shirley warned, ‘or she’ll get really shirty.’

  ‘Only with you, Shirl.’ Connie turned to Jennifer. ‘Thank you, dear. Calum let us in and Sofie showed us the restaurant dining room. It looks wonderful, breathtaking and a credit to all of you.’

  ‘There’s nothing in town that can beat it,’ Shirley added.

  ‘Thank you. Sofie and Calum did a brilliant job while I was settling things in London.’

  ‘Yeah, it was such a burden,’ Sofie ran the back of her hand dramatically across her brow.

  Connie searched Jennifer’s face. ‘Are you all right, dear? Have you been crying? It’s not something Calum said, is it?’

  ‘Heavens no. He’s been my rock.’ Jennifer patted Connie’s arm. ‘You’ll have to come with me so I can show you why. Or would you rather have tea first?’

  ‘No dear, tea can wait.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sofie put in. ‘Show us what you found.’

  ‘After you’ve seen what I have to show you, you might want something stronger.’

  ‘Jeez, is it that bad?’ Sofie peered into Jennifer’s face.

  ‘It’s not like that, Sofe.’ Jennifer crooked her arms and invited Connie and Shirley to hook on. ‘As you’re all here, I need to ask Connie: did you send me a photo of Calum in the local paper and write on the back, He’s missing you?’